Anchor Watch

The boat is mostly dark. The anchor light is out of sight at the top of the mast while I sit alone in the salon, in a small pool of light that flows from this computer screen. Deb and Fred have turned in. I am on "anchor watch."

Outside the wind moans, a light rain is falling and, for the first time in my life, I am watching a Light House light do what Light House lights were meant to do, mark a spot for sailors. Out in the darkness salt water laps against the hulls with an occasional "splash" that marks the passing of a slightly larger wave. The weather gurus say some storms will pass our way tonight but so far the southern horizon is black as can be. East and north city lights glow in the clouds. I feel like I did on my first night IFR flight, where the whole world was reduced to my little bit of cockpit. It is much the same this evening. My world, right now, is a different place than it has ever been before.