My Narrative (Finally)

John and Elizabeth had gone fishing with their father before, a few times, to sleep rocking in the bottom of the boat while dad fished late into the night. This was the first time that Dad had asked John to help thought, and it was the first time he had taken John by himself. Elizabeth pouted some, but Dad had said that she could help him take the fish to market, and mom let her help pack their lunches, and that seemed to make things better. So Dad and John set sail in the early evening, floating out to see and into the setting sun, with Mom and Elizabeth waving at them from the shore.

The calm water turned dark when the sun went down, and John's father did not hang a lantern on the boat like he normally did. The two of them sat in silence, John lying at the bottom of the boat, starting up at the stars, clear in the night sky and reflecting off of the water. Then John's father began to talk from his fishing perch. John knew that the stars were important; he knew that his dad used them to go and come home safe, and even to monitor the time. Tonight, Dad told the story of the two bears.

"Once," he said, "they were two humans, a mother and son who loved each other very much. But because the mother drew anger from the gods, she was turned into a bear. She stayed near her son and watched him grow. One day he was hunting and encountered his mother, and decided that a bear would be a good trophy. To save the mother, the gods turned the boy into a bear as well, and then put them both among the stars, so that when we are lost, we can see how they found each other, and find our own loved ones."

John loved the stories his father told. His father's voice was slow and rhythmic like the waves. Even though John knew all of the stories, having heard them as a kid, he loved to them over and over. He climbed out of the bottom of the boat and his father made room for him on the fishing perch, where he was going through the net for snags. John pointed up to the small bear and identified the North Star for his father. Dad smiled at his son's ability.

The night went on this way; father and son watching the constellations rise and sometimes Dad would tell the story, while other times John would recount the story of the constellation. Neither of them seemed to notice the wind picking up, except that John wrapped himself in a blanket to protect from the crisp breeze. But the wind kept blowing, and John's father decided that they should head back a little earlier than normal. He walked over to the sail to trim it and steer them toward home. Just as he grabbed the sail, a very strong gust blew and, John, used to seeing his fathers work, watched as the gust ripped the sail from his father's hand and his father fell into the bottom of the boat. John ran over to his father, but he knew immediately that he had been hurt, and that he would have to get the boat back to land on his own, out of the coming storm before things got worse. Working the sail and the rudder was a familiar job for John and his sister--his dad would always let them move it. But Father would always tell them when and how far: staring knowingly at the stars and telling them 'right' and 'left' and 'an arm's length.' John glanced forward at Ursa Major, mother bear, riding the horizon, and then set to work at turning around the boat.

John proved a good sailor: his father lay in the bottom of the boat, covered in a sea blanket to keep warm and dry, and John worked, sailing by the stars. He watched the time go by as constellations slid beneath the horizon as new ones rose. He had no idea what time it was, only that he was tired and the stars had changed--and that some of the new ones were less familiar to him. The wind was picking up and fear kept John awake.

Soon a light appeared on the horizon, and John thought at first that it was the hints of the sin peeking out, and was immediately relieved and filled with dread. Even while he was glad for the end of the night, John had no idea how to sail in the day---the day made the water and sky look all the same. He feared to think that he had been sailing for so long. The light seemed to make time freeze, and John watched it in fear that it would at any minute erupt over the horizon as the glowing sun. He glanced up at the little bear, the brightness of the North Star seeming dim in the presence of this new light.

The light on the horizon was not the sun. It rose and rose like a new star: bright, but not the sun. John got closer and closer and realized what he was looking at--it was the lighthouse! He was almost home! He adjusted the boat's path a little, knowing what the wharf would be off to the left of the lighthouse, and trimmed the sails. He then sat beside his father and tried to wake him to let him know. His father's eyes opened bright, he watched the North Star high above, and then felt the light of the on them.

The rain came right as John and his father came to shore. John called and Elizabeth came and helped pull the boat in--their father helping, but protecting his hurt arm and rubbing his head where he had fallen. John rolled the boat over after they had lain down they mast, and they all ran toward the house, where John's mother was waiting in the doorway. John went in last, looking back and seeing the big bear and the small bear even through the rain, shining bright, reminding everyone that they could find their way home. Then his father put a hand on his shoulder and brought him into the warmth of the house, smiling at him as any proud father would.