Skipping

I chaperoned three students on a sailboat. With nowhere for them to get lost, I reclined while our skipper, gray haired and skin creased, tried to teach them when to flip the jib.

But it didn't interest them, this mechanical information. Instead, they stuck their head out the railing to see if they could spot fish through the foot of translucent water.

As our skipper grew to know the kids, he favored giving instructions over explaining them. To help the situation, I belted, “Listen,” but it came just as one of them swore he saw a turtle - though there was none - and each of them scampered to the stern.

Once they laid the sighting to rest, our skipper squinted, adding toes to the crow's feet at his eyes, and said, “The wind's dying down.”

To my surprise, someone responded, “Is that good or bad?”

He replied, “It's temporary.”

In the silence that followed, I hoped they thought it through. But one spoke up with, “I'm hungry,” and the others agreed.