PTSD

By Erik Dolson

It may have been arrogant, or maybe just thoughtless. Selfish is another possibility. I took too much pride in having Irish climb on and off boats before we even made it back to Foxy. But I really thought we (I!) had moved us past the trauma of Irish’s fall.

Yes, we’d had trouble moving the boat away from the pump-out station, but the next day I rationalized our being pinned to the dock as the result of an unobserved flood tide and tight quarters. Continue reading PTSD

All But Forgotten — Part 1

By Erik Dolson

The early morning was cold and gray and I worried Irish would become chilled and uncomfortable out in the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Chris, our friend from Trotac, a chandlery and our favorite store in Victoria, had not yet pulled up to the dock. I worried there might have been a miscommunication. Continue reading All But Forgotten — Part 1

It’s warming up

By Erik Dolson

Freezer Guru Chad texted at 7:15 this morning that he would be here at nine instead of eight. That was okay by me, since I’d completely forgotten that he would be coming today. The reminder was as welcome as the extra hour.

Blame the temporary amnesia not on my years this time, but on the fact that we worked hard on the boat yesterday. Irish had asked me to find the hose nozzle so she could scrub the decks. Continue reading It’s warming up

Fear 3.0

By Erik Dolson

Irish talks about fear. She fell, crushed half her face and lost her right eye. Of course she fears going back on the boat. No job and savings wiped out by divorce, she fears medical bills, as do many in much better shape.

She fears for our relationship. After losing her job, the day before she fell, she asked me if I “could still love an unemployed miscreant.”  Her question was not out of the blue. This isn’t the first time Irish and I had been together.

Continue reading Fear 3.0

3:30 am

By Erik Dolson

At 3:30 in the morning of a day in the first week of January it’s almost dark outside but for reflections of starlight off faceted sparkles of fresh snow that’s been falling since before dinner yesterday.

Another year.

The to-do list stretches for pages and hasn’t changed much in months which piles guilt upon guilt for my aimlessness, inattention, lack of focus. I’m writing but not publishing, floating but not boating, sitting and not scrubbing, driving not to any destination. But that’s so often what I do.

Continue reading 3:30 am

One of the Best Ever.

By Erik Dolson

Irish had nightmares nearly all night on Christmas Eve. She would cry out or whimper, and I would take her hand or touch her shoulder or leg, someplace where I could reach actual skin.

“It’s alright. I’m right here,”

She would gulp a lungful of air.

“It was awful. People were coming out of the ground to attack me.”

“It’s just a nightmare. I’m right here.”

She’d fall back asleep but 20 minutes or an hour later, she would cry out again.

Continue reading One of the Best Ever.