As I circle the next trip on this Island of Hope, the amount of visible footsteps increase. I pick up my bottle, attach the string and cast it into the surf. I’ve done it so many times before and my throw seems to grow stronger. These lines splay out in all directions. In the past there’s a visible landing on the line. Is there anyone on? Every time I reel on these strands, the action goes taut.
I can see the shore of another body on the horizon. There’s no doubt. We are getting closer. My eyes are focused on the prize. It’s true. At the end of the line it’s evidenced. We may be stranded in shallows just for a moment but I can see it. We were never alone.
Hang tight.
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