Flashback to the Ocean

[DAY 13, Writing101.   Assignment: a continuation of DAY 4,  Two Posts in a series.]   The post for Day 4 was about something we had lost, or that we had had at one time but no longer.] http://mumbletymuse.com/?s=day+four

One windy day in Ohio (is there ever a non-windy day in my backyard in Ohio?) we decided to put up one of those big square plastic covers with the cheap metal supports, and guide-wires and all that.   There were three of us, me, my daughter and my son.  Maybe if there had been another person we would have better results.

But I am getting ahead of my story, and while this may double as the DAY 14 post, I think it is…to write about foreboding atmosphere…that might be cheating.

We got the four posts laid out at their respective four corners of the top cover, inserted the posts into the post-holes as instructed, and prepared to lift the cover  into an upright position.  We had it all figured out, and in theory the top should have just raised into position and hooked onto the stakes at the corners, and we would have at least that much of the tent-like cover up in place.     Then all we would have to do was  raise the center pole, a very simple matter, and put up the other four posts in the center at each side.

The instructions and the advertising label had boasted that their product was EASY TO ASSEMBLE, A CHILD CAN DO IT so we were not expecting serious difficulties.

The problem there is, obviously, we did not have a child amonst us…   if we had, she would have been the fourth person, and have a firm grip on the fourth tent corner.

Like clock-work, the three-legged structure settled into an upright position, and–so far, so good.   and all that remained was for  one of us to move  over to the fourth pole, (which was sort of flapping around,) grabbing the end, and sliding it into the pocket on the stake.

A virtual gale blew in at this moment, and although I had a good grip on the pole that I was supposed to be holding, the plastic was flapping, and the whole thing was caving in.   The wind was so strong that it very nearly yanked the metal pole out of my hands, and I felt as if I was about to sail off into the air.

[Here’s where Day Four’s story applies.] http://mumbletymuse.com/?s=day+four

Suddenly I was back aboard that sailing ship, holding on for dear life to the main mast.   The ocean waves were well over the top of my head, and I could see nothing except the top of the mast where I had climbed as far as I could go.  The deafening crash of the giant waves, the creaking of the twisted and leaning mast, the sounds of the wind and the ocean …ended.

…back home in this life, really hanging onto a pole with flapping canvas (plastic) threatening to lift me off my feet…the wind died down, the tent/cover fell down, and I sat down on the grass.

[comment]

As I have commented before, “this story MAY be fiction.”   But this experience with the whipping cover and the sensation of the metal pole being dragged from my hands as I held on with all my might–this incident convinced me that I had a glimpse of a Past Life.   In that life I was a boy on a sailing ship, until I drowned.

2 Comments

    1. Thank you, glad you enjoyed the story. By the way, I need to clarify something… in this only the actual last seconds of the boy’s life at the top of the ship’s mast is what I believe is an actual past life. The background story about the kid and his mom and all that is fiction.

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