lost at sea

we are the city and coastline closest to europe. our fierce beginnings and quick prosperity both borne from the sea. it gave us whaling, privateering, and an expedient route of trade (triangular or otherwise). it made us self-sufficient and unafraid of the elements. men packed trunks, tipped their brims in "goodbye", walked up the gangplank and shoved off for however long. sometimes years. to this day, our deep-sea fishermen may be gone for weeks, and we still have a strong tradition of merchant mariners who sail for many months.

what of the woman left behind? no internet, no satellite, no transatlantic cable afforded easy comfort. she simply picked up her skirts and got down to life. uncertainty the only thing for sure.
she managed the fields, the house, the kids and the accounts. all the while, waiting. some scant and belated news might be had. a few crews might be docked in tora bora, share a night of rum and pass some letters. she'd know he wasn't dead, at least at the date of the note. so she'd keep the lamp lit, his robe ready. and hope alive.

surely some hateful shrews wished he'd not return, and the world being as wild as it was, no doubt more than a few sailors ditched the nantucket biddy for a balinese lover. what then, of the ship declared lost? over the decades, hundreds of boats vanished. hurricanes, pirates and sea-monsters all conspired to devour vessels, their men and their bounties. when she first fell in love with him, she always knew this day might come. she locked away that sad thought because her devotion was stronger than that pain.

so, in spite of the facts, for how long does she, well, long? weeks turn into months, yet she still sets the table for him. when does her yearning begin to dim? when does she at last douse the window candle before going to bed? is it a conscious moment of choice, or has her mind finally taken her heart in hand?