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The Breeeze Janruary 2020

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<strong>The</strong> gravel crunched with each step, it was<br />

similar to the sound one makes when chewing pieces of<br />

ice. Kayla abruptly stopped her brisk pace causing the<br />

faithful lab who had been trotting by her side to circle<br />

back around. She stooped, one hand still in her pocket,<br />

and slipped her exposed fingers through the coarse,<br />

looped end of a rope. <strong>The</strong> ragged lead was attached to<br />

the front of a faded blue kayak. It rested in a muddy<br />

patch, next to a faded red kayak, underneath a stubby<br />

hurricane palm. <strong>The</strong> rope was prickly to the touch and<br />

hurt a bit as she pulled the small craft from the clutches<br />

of the mud. It was a brisk day and her hands were tender<br />

in the cool air. <strong>The</strong> boat made a sucking sound as it was<br />

lifted from its soggy confines. Several worms flipped and<br />

shimmied in the exposed light of day. Bad Dog! her canine<br />

companion playfully yapped at the large night crawlers,<br />

spurring their reentry to the subterranean world. <strong>The</strong> old<br />

kayak hissed and gargled as it was dragged over the loose<br />

gravel path. Water sloshed back and forth in the hollow<br />

cavity forcing Kayla to flip it over several times in the<br />

hope she wouldn’t have a soggy paddle on the river. <strong>The</strong><br />

path was wide enough and the craft weathered enough<br />

for Kayla to feel no shame about dragging it over course<br />

rocks and through filthy mud. Bit by bit the gravel gave<br />

way to crushed oyster shell and sand. <strong>The</strong> path began<br />

to narrow and twist around tight grassy corners. She<br />

was forced to let go of her hold on the rope and instead<br />

grab the lip that separated the paddler’s seat from the<br />

By Gene Cashman lll<br />

Photography By David Howard<br />

outside shell. Her small arms strained as she heaved the<br />

boat up on her knee then quickly hoisted it to her hip,<br />

gaining her balance she again set off down the winding<br />

path. Bad Dog! leaped and played in the waist high grass<br />

that lined the path. Several times stopping dead in her<br />

tracks to avoid a playful collision with her master. Kayla<br />

let the boat slip several times, sending it crashing into the<br />

shells and bent grass. With no one to help her she would<br />

awkwardly retrieve the boat from the weeds and hoist it<br />

up on her knee and hip to carry. This reminded her of the<br />

solitude to come, of being alone with a task, a burden.<br />

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