By James Heaton

In the depths of the great mother ocean, the salty water of the Caribbean Sea, hidden in the sand lies the anchor. Chained to the boat it holds the ship steady in the roughest tide. The hardest metal bound to the deck of the ship, it is more than a tool, it is a symbol of strength and safety. Without it the boat would drift into the unknown. It is the hand that holds firmly in the best of times and the worst of times.

On the surface the boats flows with the water, to and from, ever moving with the rhythm of the ocean. The water splashes gently on the hull as the sun shimmers across the ripples.  In the distance the purple sky grows darker. The clouds once soft and gliding across the lavender sky now grow angry. The storm draws nearer by the moment.  The water once calm and serene now lifts and falls with each passing wave. What was once peaceful now echoes with chaos. The boat pulls on the metal chain hauling the anchor deeper through the sand as it sinks it edge further, only stopping as it catches the side of a rock. Furious and vengeful the storm blows a cold breath of air onto the hull of the boat. And though the lone sailor should be drowning in fear of the mighty gales that batter his vessel, he holds true to his faith in the anchor. The one thing that stands between him and the fierce waves of the dark blue water is a finely forged brass anchor.

The boat and the sailor have seen worse over the years of life on the ocean. With each gust of wind, the boat bounces and pitches, and yet the anchor holds true. In the galley, the sailor pours a drink as he holds onto his confidence in his anchor.  The storm grows stronger, and the boat rises and falls with the crest of every wave. But still the anchor holds deep into the sand refusing to let go. It is all that stands in the way of disaster and destruction.  The faith of the sailor relies completely on the sharp blade of brass that holds tightly to its grasp of the ocean floor.

As the sailor drinks his glass of dark rum he recalls the many storms that he has faced, the wind gust that blew with the fury of the gods. But through all the years at sea he has never faltered in his faith of his boat, for she is mighty and solid. At night he sleeps in her belly and through the day he stands behind her wheel and guides her through the oceans blue. But for now, he waits for the storm to pass, as it always has and always will.

As the storm calms and the wind dies down. The cloud’s part to reveal the night sky and the stars that blanket the blue world above. The sailor climbs the stairs to the deck of his ship and peers into the mysterious sky, secure in his safety for once again his anchor has held true. The stars shine brightly as the moon takes her place high above the oceans. The mighty queen of the sea commands the tides.

He thinks of his love for his wife, how through the storms of his life she has been his anchor. In the darkest of his days when he was all but ready to give up, ready to give into the darkness she was there for she was and will always be his anchor. The anchor that holds his heart and keeps him steady in the deadly storm of life. He longs to reunite with her, to cling to her and thank her for her strength and resilience.  She is and will always be his anchor.

Through the peace of the night, he sleeps in his cabin, without worry or fear he knows his boat will not drift into the shallows. In his sleep he dreams of her face, the first time he saw her. How her dark hair surround her tan skin and her smile glowed like a million sparkling diamonds. He longed to once again be by her side, for he had been at sea for too long.

The next morning, he awakes and sets his main sail, tying the main line to the cleat as he draws the anchor from the depths. Carefully he places it on the deck and for a second he offers it his gratitude for keeping him steady and safe. His compass points to the Northwest as he glides through the water, the morning sun warming his face and his arms.

Hours he sails until he sees the tiny black line on the horizon. He recognizes the shapes and the trees as he navigates through the shallows. In the distance he sees the inlet where his wife waits on him patiently and true. And like he dreamed, she stands on the docks, waiting for him to return. Swiftly he pulls closer to the docks and ties the boat off, securing it once again as he has done hundreds of times. Stepping off the deck and onto the land he is met with resounding love and embraced by his true love.

“You came back to me.” She says with joy.

“You knew I would, I always come back to you.” He says as he kisses her lips.

“I was worried, with the storm and the wind.” She says, holding him tightly as if she never wanted to let go.

“My devotion to you is the compass star and your love is the anchor that holds me close, keeping me safe in the storm. You are and will always be my anchor.” He says as they walk toward the house.

The boat gently moves with the waves, for it has once again returned home safe and sound. A gull perched on the mast, calls to its mate in the evening breeze.