The mournful howl of a hound could not have sounded quite as bleak as the lonely wail of the ship’s horn as it disturbed the silence of the moonless night. The coast, the pilot knew, was not far off - the ominous cliffs, the chunks of stone lying partly submerged in the ocean below, torn from the bedrock of the planet by ages of slashing wind and sundering waves - mortal danger lying in wait to waylay the unwary and unsuspecting. The pilot could hear the ragged battering of the water against the rocks, but his gaze could not penetrate the darkness, and the dim lamp reflected bleakly back from the dense wall of mist that parted only reluctantly to allow the small ship passage. The pilot sounded the horn anew, a desperate plea for help muted and swallowed by the clouded air and the frothing seas.For a timeless moment, nothing - nothing whatever. Then -
< Design borrowed from Nightmare Mom
A brilliant blade of white sliced through the gloom, momentarily disappearing before returning to slash another swath through the fog. A deep, vibrant blast reverberated through the mist, the voice of Leviathan answering the call of the dolphin. A warmth suffused the pilot’s heart, and he sounded his horn once more in thanks before steering away from the treacherous rocks, sailing out into safer and friendlier waters.
Those who suffer afflictions of the mind, body or spirit are akin to that little ship - sometimes sailing through a perilous environment with nothing to light the way. If they are lucky, they find the lighthouse that they need to escort them to safety. There are a number of harbors into which Bonnie and I have sailed, safe havens inhabited by friendly souls who welcome newcomers into their midst with gladness and respect. We would like, in a belated fashion, to give thanks to and for you friendly souls - the rockers on the porch, the conservative couple, the investor with the marvelous sense of humor, the food and ferret lovers, the tellers of porch tales and guitar players, the revvers, the sufferer of idiot coworkers and flamingo lover, the peach tree poetess, the conqueror of polio, the blonde who would live at the beach, the mother in Michigan, the mom and lover of HP, the Opera Queen, and others whom we may have forgotten. You have been, and are, there for us, and we for you.