Looking down at the ocean, I wondered why I had returned. Years ago my wife and I launched the small boat. We climbed in and I began to row.
Suddenly Mary cried, “Look. There’s a storm coming!”
Minutes before, the sky had been clear; now dark clouds approached.
I reversed the motion of the oars, but the storm came too quickly for me to turn the boat. The wind capsized us; unable to swim, Mary sank from sight.
I hurried back down the trail, guilt-ridden. I had been young and afraid, and had not tried to rescue my beloved.