what do you think of my story?

The Old Man

I stood starring up at him, while he looked out into an empty bay. He shivered, just once, as a soft, chilling breeze traveled down the dock. I remember that night quite clearly as he stood there grasping my arm, watching that forlorn section of water rise and fall. I lowered my eyes and stared at the water too. We were watching for a boat, a schooner to be exact, that would arrive at dusk that very night. You might, however, wonder why we stood in the chill on that late autumn’s night, waiting for a ship that was yet to arrive. That story, began in the morning before dawn.

I sat at my window just before the dawn. I looked down at the path that ran up from the beach. I waited for him, my grandfather, to amble up it and take me away for one of our adventures. It wasn’t a special day-- not a holiday or birthday-- it was just a Tuesday; my favorite time of the week. This was the day when my grandfather would come and take me away to spend the whole day together. Just to two of us. Now there I was, watching him shuffle up the path to my old, wooden back porch.

I ran down the steps and swung open the door. There stood the old man, a proud smile pursed his lips as I jumped into his arms and gave him a kiss.

“Grandpa Tory you remembered!” I squealed with delight.

“Of course my dear lad. Did you think I’d forget my favorite time of the week?” He asked in a deep calming tone.

Today was an exciting day, for I was going to see what my grandfather did for a living. We walked down Main Street and over a few blocks to a lonely old dock that possessed not even a fishing boat.

“This,” chuckled the Old man. “Is where I take command.”

He shook with laughter as he bent to light a lantern. That statement made me remember the stories he told. Stories of times when he was in command of a grand ship instead of a forgotten dock. I felt sorry for the old man while thinking of times that were gone.

He took me by the arm and aimed me in the direction of the so-still water.

“Now, we wait my dear boy,” He whispered softly. “For my favorite part of this job. There,” He said pointing. “Is where my joy will come from.”

At the time, I did not understand what he was saying. “Where my joy will come from.” The words did not make sense to me, but later I found what he meant.

We stayed there all day; clearing seaweed from buoys and anything else that needed to be done on the dock. Then, there we were, looking out upon the water, watching for something that brought my grandfather joy. Then, there it was, sailing across the empty span of water. It was a schooner! My excitement raised as I saw one for the very first time.

I looked up at my grandfather and saw a smile grace his lips, and I knew what he meant by “my joy”. Seeing this ship gave him joy, this was his joy. He smiled thinking of the times when he was the captain of such a ship. He smiled thinking of the times when he did more than just wait for their coming.

He swung his lantern three times and the schooner slowly approached. My grandfather then took my hand and headed down the street, toward home.

“Grandpa,” I asked. “Is that all you do? Just wait on the boat to arrive.”

He gave me a half smile and a slight little chuckle. “Yes, my boy. That’s all I do.”

At one time, I was puzzled by this. I could not believe he stayed there all day just to wait on a ship and bring it into bay. However, I now know why he waited on those ships in the night. He did it to remember the times he spent on those ships.

Who is this man, you may ask, that I loved with such affection, who spent his time looking for joy in grand ships? Captain Tory, of course, my grandfather and great seaman.

I’ve now taken over for my grandfather on the old dock, and stand in the chill waiting for ships in the night. For I also find joy in the sight of a schooner, floating on a ripple less bay, drenched in moon light.