It’s a relief to breathe the fresh Florida air when I climb back on deck. It smells of the ocean and my childhood. It smells of my past.
“Are you okay?” Aunt Jackie says. She’s looking up at me, her hand clasping the brim of her bright yellow sun hat.
I reach down and hand her the ukulele case.
“I am. I really am,” I say, and climb down the ladder. “But you definitely don’t want to go in there. It’s a stinking mess.”
The captain offers Aunt Jackie a look that confirms my observation.
When I’m standing beside her again, I take the ukulele case and hug it to my chest. She puts her arm around my shoulders. I don’t know everything about how I feel, or anything about how I should feel. I don’t even really know how I want to feel. But I know without a doubt that the ground is solid beneath my feet and it feels good.
Safe Harbour Page 21