Essay 14

Note: I decided to take a break from the heavy philosophical stuff with this one, I was starting to get a migraine. So, here is a sample of my latest "project." I felt this would be a good way to start the New Year. 

Note 2: This is a continuation from Packing, Part I entry from September. - A.

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The next two weeks drifted away slowly for Scott. Much of his time was spent around the property helping his mom move furniture and fix things inside the house and patch things up on the outside. On one of his many walks around the property, Scott discovered a path leading down to a stretch of beach along the Bay. At the end of the path, was a permanent dock in need of some repair.  After his discovery, he began stashing away some wood to repair the steps leading to the dock and the dock itself. Never growing up around water, he was excited for the challenge, but also was a little leary of making a mistake. Not to say dock repair is hard to do, be he, like everyone else, still had to quell those nagging doubts that cross your mind even when doing the most mundane of tasks.

On one hand, he did not want to mess with the dock because he liked the aesthetic appeal - pylons slightly off-angle, the boards not cut evenly on the outer sides, some jutting out more than others; creating an appearance that he felt befitted this area - unkempt. The fish smell that hung in the air, the seaweed that washed up along the beach,  the jaggedness of the bluffs that cut in and out of the shoreline and the scraggly brush that jutted out unevenly from the soft clay. Blue-brown water jutting together with the blue sky and white clouds - the beach a jarring red and burnt orange. All of his friends who went to the beach raved about its beauty. Scott thought it looked old, worn down and that he was standing in the middle of a trash heap.  

However, no matter how ugly it appeared to him during the day, when the sun began to set and flooded the water and the surrounding land with so many more colors of the its infinite pallet, the place did have a breathtaking beauty, and that was when he decided to resurrect the dock. In the fading sunlight of the evening, the dock darkened and became a dark outline, a silent bridge closing the gap between the real world and the world he longed for - home. He knew it was mere fantasy, but it was enough to let his imagination run wild; and Scott was a firm believer in if something sparks your imagination, then you should continue to pursue it no matter the cost. Scott took a cautious step onto the pier, trying to get a better look at the extent of the repairs needed, one of the boards underneath his foot instantly crumbled underneath of him and fell into the water. It was then he knew the extent of the work he needed to do - a lot. But regardless, he knew that he needed that this was going to be his spot to be alone and he needed to repair this dock.

His mom, on the other hand, had a different opinion.

When he proposed the plan, his mother listened patiently, used to his scheming and ideas, until he was finished and then asked the one question:

     "Why are you even bothering? We don't own a boat. Plus, honey, we have a lot of other repairs and costs that are a higher priority than a dock."

That was a valid point. And one he was anticipating.

     "That's not important. You could use it as a gathering place when Dad and Sis come down. Sis can swim off it, we have the chance to look like everyone else for once - everyone who lives next to the water has a dock."

     "That's a very 'keeping up with the Jones' attitude."

     "Yeah, well, maybe for the time being I want to fit in. I want to have a chance at making some friends while I'm stuck here."

Scott did not bring up the fact that the dock was going to be his personal spot - that would not go over very well with his mother. 

But his mother did not press any farther, recognizing this attempted repair was going to happen, one way or another so she approved the project with the one provision that the project needed to be done as cheaply as possible and any expense came from his pocket allowance. 

 So led to the collecting of wood. It may not have been to the quality that Scott had hoped it would have been, but at it least it was good enough to be used again - and saved him money. He had purchased nails from the hardware store in town, along with a hammer. 

Soon, the morning of the planned dock repair arrived.