The Lobsterman

I was born with salt water coursing through my veins. The sound 

of the waves lapping the shore quiets my mind and lowers my blood pressure. 

Hip boots, Grundens, and a baseball cap are my uniform. My office

is an endless blue sea that I travel upon in a vessel named after my wife of thirty-three years. Nearly every day I see sunrises and sunsets that even the most talented painter could never capture on his canvas.. I meet my co-workers on the water and greet

them with the wave of my free hand. My work hours

are from sunup to sundown. My back and knees ache

from the handling of traps that weigh as much as the small child that waits for 

me at home. My livelihood is a gamble based on my catch and a fluctuating market

that I can’t control. I only see my family long enough to eat and sleep, six months out of the year. When I get home, I come in smelling of bait and fresh air.

The smell of money. 

The ocean can be an angry place full of foul weather and competition. It has taken

the lives of family and friends, leaving widows and fatherless children. It destroys  friendships and marriages. No matter the quarrel, we still take care of each other. 

We are a band of brothers.

I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

I was born with salt water coursing through my veins.

I will do this until the ocean takes me or my body gives out.