Fiction: Ocean

The choices for today are:  (1) observer, (2) order, (3) ocean. The chosen word is ocean.

Fiction: Ocean
Under the early morning orange light, a woman pushes a small canoe out into the water. For a long while, she rows in silence.
    Ten months ago, she had heard from a friend of a friend that if you row from one end of the ocean to the other, all your sorrows will be forgotten. At first, she thought it was all nonsense but then her husband died. Through the ocean of sorrow, she hopes to forget.
    The sky darkens and it starts to rain. A strong wind begins to whip the rain about. Soaked through with arms aching and a stiff back, she slacks her pace.
    The wind increases and the canoe flips over and she is thrown into the water. With a tight grip on the paddle, she swims from under the canoe and takes in a few breaths of air. She adjusts her life jacket and wipes at her eyes. Is it tears or just the rain? Not far off, she spots a light. A strange certainty tells her that is where she should go. With renew strength, she flips the canoe, removes bits of water with a pouch and gets back in.
    After a while, the wind dies down and the rain turns into drizzle. When she reaches the light, she is relieved but tired. She gets out of the canoe and sits on the ground. A fog has encircled the small isle but the top of the lighthouse is in view.
    She thinks of her life. All the memories are there but the ones that are painful and one particular where her husband dies, she can't recall. Is this how it will be? Her sorrows are forgotten but she doesn't want all of them to leave her.
    "If you want your sorrows back, just row back to where you come from," says a man sitting in a fold-out chair and smoking a pipe. She swears there haven't been anyone a moment ago.
    She glances at him. The unruly beard. The dark eyes. That ratty blue sweater. Then it strikes her. "You're—" She swallows.
    "Yes, Sweetheart, it's me only I'm not really here." He removes his pipe from his mouth and turns to face her. "You don't have to remember me and you don't have to forget me. You just need to move on."
    "Is that what I should do?" she asks.
    He chuckles softly and waves the pipe about. "Sweetheart, the world is expansive. Do everything! Don't waste time dwelling on the past. And don't stay here. Many had come only to return. You need to go back." He smiles.
    She wipes the tears from her eyes. When she looks back, her husband is not there. Has it been her imagination?
    She looks toward where she has come from but sees only the fog. Hasn't she wanted to forget? For a few moments she sits and watches the fog and rain.
    A little while later, back on the shore where she has started several hours ago, she smiles as she remembers again all her sorrows.

For tomorrow, the letter P, the choices are (1) potato, (2) passenger, (3) postcards. Choose which word I might ramble about or tell a story.

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