Every night I look out my window and don’t know why. Perhaps I’m looking for something that isn’t and never will be there. Maybe I gaze up at the sky if only to prove to myself light can shine for thousands of years….or to have pity on the stars whose brilliance shines a little less each day. No, I look out my window in order to rest my eyes upon the tiny vessel bobbing up and down with the symphony of the night. It looks out of place, overgrown by its surroundings. A huge oak bends over the water, curiously reprimanding my boat. It is almost invisible behind the floating dock which seems to be embarrassed by my boat’s shabby appearance. But it is there nevertheless. That’s all I need to know. The rope that binds my boat to land becomes older and weaker, not with time but perhaps with use. I want to go to it, to comfort it, to tell the world to stay away. But it is nighttime…and so late. Forlornly, I brush the humid glass with my fingertips as an apology for keeping it out in the cold of the night. I will repaint it tomorrow out of consolidation. Maybe this time, some of the nicks and scratches will be hidden from the rest of the world, but they’ll be there nevertheless. I will leave the bay tomorrow. I will depart from land just to make sure my boat still floats, and I will end up pleasantly surprised. It never fails me, but every day I fail it. My boat understands though, that is why it never breaks the all too weak rope tying it down. That’s why it never sails from the shadows. It knows my remorse, and it pity’s me like I do the stars. One day my boat will have had enough. And with me aboard its rough splintered belly, it will sail into the vast unknown. The tree will loom over another unsuspecting victim and the rope will hang aimlessly frayed off the dock’s edge, its tips swollen at the threat of the water. Until that day I’ll look out my window every night. Perhaps my gaze will fall upon my boat…. bobbing up and down with the symphony of the night