I was told that not so long ago, there was a young man
and a young woman. They met and fell in love. It was a very
special love. Both knew almost at once that this was so.
In fact, on the night of their first date, they both sensed
something very special was afoot.

They went out for dinner, and conversation flowed easily
and without effort. They went to a film afterword; he liked
it...she did not. They arranged their next outing with no
hesitation, and the young man went home very happy.

He was living with his parents still, and when his mother
casually asked him how his evening was, he said quite
confidently, "This may be the girl I marry!"

Quietly, his mother noted that remark.

And so it was. Inside of two years, they were married.
All during their courtship there was one very special thing
that bound them together. They both loved the sea.

Almost every weekend for those years, they wiled away
their leisure hours by the sea, on the sea, in the sea, and
as time went by as they began to explore the islands of the
New England coast, surrounded by the sea.

They dreamed of someday having a house where they could
hear the waves and smell the sweet salt tang in the air. And
later, raising a family there. The young woman had always
dreamed of having a family, and while it took the young man
awhile to adapt to that prospect's responsibilities, he
began to embrace that part of the dream as well.

And so, they were husband and wife.

They had their trials that first year, learning to live together,
work together,trying to share life's responsibilities. And for the most
part, they succeeded.
And then the time came! They decide to start their family.
Warm and loving were all their efforts, but it began to be clear that
something was not quite right. After more than a year, no child was
on the way.

For the next few years, they redoubled their efforts,
seeking medical help that often was embarrassing,
frequently painfull, and always more than they could really
afford. But they were persistant. But all to no avail.

And then, the young woman began to get very sick. She failed rapidly.
The doctors did not know what was wrong and offered little help and no
comfort to them. The young woman almost died before she was diagnosed.
Surgery saved her life, but her life would never be the same again. Her
illness kept the young man and the young woman very busy for
several years. During that time, starting a family was no longer foremost
in their minds. They began to contemplate a life without children of their own.

Then suddenly one day, quite unexpectedly, they discovered
they were going to have a family after all. They were quite taken
aback, but very excited, and could hardly believe that such a miracle
was actually happening to them.

They struggled to contain their excitement and
joy...and they planned. The young man began to prepare
himself for short naps and long nights, that, while trying,
he knew would pass all too quickly as their baby grew. He
was determined to enjoy those times.

The young woman changed her diet, eating lots of
vegatables and fruits, and making sure that her body was
healthier than it had ever been. And she was determined to
keep it that way.

Then on their first visit to the hospital to check on
the tiny being growing inside the young woman, they met him.
Their son, for a boy it was. The young woman had knowingly
said so from the beginning, as mothers will sometimes do.

Because the young woman's health was fragile, the
couple went almost every week to see their child, sitting in
the darkened radiology lab, watching the ever-growing form.
As young parents will, they deeply loved their child from
that very first time when he was merely a tiny, white heartbeat
on the glowing screen, and they watched wide-eyed as it pulsed.
The young woman's heart was filled with joy. The young
man sat awed, mesmerised. Tears of pride and happiness came
to his eyes. And the weeks passed by.

After a few more months, they would watch as the
quickly growing shape began to move its' tiny legs, stretching, testing,
growing stronger with each passing day. As he began to jump and move
about, the young woman remarked that her son needed a ball to play with,
and the young man promised her that he would have one.
They loved Michael, for that was to be his name. They loved
him as if they had already known him for many years; and in a way,
they had!

But then, the young woman's health began to fail again.
She seemed very strong, and no one could find anything wrong
with her. She was put on bed-rest so that the baby would
have a chance to grow. The young man stayed by her side day
and night.

Her mother came to stay and help by cooking her meals and
keeping the linen clean and fresh. The young woman did
everything she could to keep herself healthy for Michael.
But sadly, none of their efforts could help. And the
young boy came too soon. Much too soon to open his eyes, or
to take his first breath of air. There was nothing that
anyone could do, and the young couple's joy and happiness
vanished in the pain of their terrible loss.

The next several months brought little comfort to the
young man and woman. Their grief was not easily understood
by many. Even many family members and close friends could
not find words, or the courage to say them. They could
never really know how these two felt to have a life-long
dream fulfilled, and then torn away so harshly.
The young man and the young woman did their best to be
a comfort to each other. Together they tried to remember the
private laughter of their son, a laughter that only they had
been priveledged to hear for those few, short months. And
clinging to one another, they prayed and asked why, and shed
private tears.

**********************************************************

For many months they struggled with their tradgedy.
They felt so alone in their sorrow that they began to
realise that it would be up to them to somehow make their
son real to others, as he was so to them. They began
to gather things that they had bought for him; a baby
blanket, a small, fine wooden treasure chest, and a pewter
wind-chime that depicted a mother dolphin and her new-born
calf. And the children's books that they had found, and had
warmly anticipated reading to their growing boy.
The young woman sat for hours and drew a fine
children's watercolor of a well known book likely to be
found in any nursery, and put his birth date upon it in
lovingly executed caligraphy. The young man began thinking
of a story to write that would embody the brief life of his
son, as well as the timeless love he would always feel for
him.

It was simply of vital importance that they create some
physical presence for their Michael. Something beyond the
memories, that they could see, could touch, that they could
hold dear, and make a part of their everyday lives. And this
they did.

They derived some significant comfort from their efforts,
it's true. But though Michael had actually come to them on 12 February,
he was to have been born in early August of that year. And that time,
said to be the 16th of the month by the doctors, began to draw near.

**********************************************************

On that special day, the young man and woman went to a
flower vendor and bought a dozen, baby-blue carnations. They
packed sandwiches and took the car to a very special place.
The Cove, they'd always called it. They had lived out their
courtship at this beautiful spot by the sea.

Off shore, the five Isles of Shoals stood sentinel to the cove,
which had two lovely arcs of sand bordered by a green, tree-encircled park
on the south side, and an old, squat lighthouse guarding the entrance to
the Piscatqua River on the North. They shared many happy memories from
this spot, and, as such things may at times, this seemed the perfect spot to be
together, to remember, to cloak the memories and dreams they had for little Michael,
their 'SeaChild'. For that is what he would have been!

They parked on the grass in the park, and then,
gathering up the blue carnations, they walked hand in hand
out upon the long, stone jetty which jutted out from the shore to the North.
And there they sat together, looking out and accross to the shoreline of Kittery.
For a long while they sat, saying nothing, the sky-blue carnations resting in
the young woman's arms. Then, they looked at each other, and unspoken
understanding passed between them. The young woman drew a
pair of flowers from the bundle she held close, and passed
them to the young man. He looked at her for a moment, then
took them. Tears began to blur their eyes; the young man
took a deep breath and, one at a time, he tossed the flowers
out into the turning tide. Then the young womanfollowed his gesture,
casting not only the blossoms, but a great part of her heart and soul as well
out onto the gentle, rolling tide. They did this until the flowers were
gone, their arms empty once again. And then a thought began
to creep into the young man's mind.

Someone had once told him that the sea gives and takes
from humans. And one should never take a gift from the sea
lightly...or for granted. He had also been told that though
the sea can be, to coin a phrase, an harsh mistress, she can
also be a great comfort to a man or a woman in a time of dire
need. For it is said that the sea is the Great Mother of all
life on Earth, and he thought about this, and felt that it
was certainly true.

For some moments, the young man bowed his head slightly,
staring down at the blue-green water. His concentration
turned inward as he focused his mind on a prayer. He
imagined being a part of the Mother Ocean, for surely all
life on this planet is that. He began to visualise her warm,
liquid arms encircling him and the young woman, holding them
to Her breast with a timeless and maternal love. And he
humbly asked Her to take the precious, new spirit of their
Michael, hold him close and comfort him. He asked that She
watch over him as they never would in this life.
He paused...and then he asked that She help them to feel
Michael's prescence from time to time, whenever they were
near Her, for that was one of their most treasured places to
spend their leisure time, by Her, Beside Mother Ocean. The
man could not imagine a more appropriate, and blessed place
to be.

Beside the man, the woman dwelled inside her own thoughts.
Her own pain, her own dreams. She, as it happens, was lost
in a very similar revery to the man's. She too felt a strong
attachment to the Sea, and had a great faith in Her capacity
to heal and comfort. And though the phrasing was different,
she too sang a prayer to Mother Ocean to watch over and
comnfort her baby, to hold him in loving, strong, and
motherly arms for whatever space of time there was before
she, her husband, and little Michael Galen, their Seachild,
could be together once more in spirit.

After awhile, they both looked at each other, and with
silent agreement, they rose, glanced back out at the blue
carnations bobbing playfully in the ebbing tide. They both
turned and walked back accross the jetty to the car. There
were tears in their eyes, yet somewhere deep inside them
both, there was a sense of closure, and perhaps a little
comfort in what they had done. Their pain had certainly not
been erased. Yet, somehow, their faith had allowed that pain
to be diminished a fraction, and silently they both began to
accomodate an awareness that perhaps it was being shared
now. Perhaps their tears now mixed with those of Mother
Ocean, for surely there must be little difference in Her
loving, fluid prescence and the tears of a grieving Father
or Mother. And somehow the man knew in his heart that their
overwhelming love for their son was now also shared with the sea.

As would be expected, life changed for the man and the woman.
It seemed each waking moment of each day was a reminder to them
both that their baby could not share those moments with them, as
they had so many times dreamed that he would.
That constant, insistant reminder took its toll very quickly on the couple.
Each day for them both, it was more and more difficult to look about
and see the good and the wonder, the happines that life still could offer
them. Each in their way, felt an emptiness inside they had never known before.
A sense of hoplessness. A sense of loss that at times they
could not see beyond. Nor could they find an adequate way to
express that feeling, yet, they could not resist the compulsion to try.

************************************************

A relationship, even one as special, as singular as that of
the Man and Woman, began to change. Even their special love
began to bend and twist under the strain and stress of their
terrible loss. They grew apart mentally and physically more
and more each day. The little quirks in a person's make-up,
which usually are shrugged off by a loving partner, began to
grate and irritate instead. Tempers grew shorter, words more
often than not preceded thoughts, and hurt was cast back and
forth accross the gulf that tradgedy had created between
them. They began to care less and less about their home,
their interests and hobbies. And while they maintained the
handfull of friendships in their lives, somehow even those
moments lacked some spark or substance that most of us take
for granted, and did not always fulfill as they once had.
The Man and the Woman felt lost, adrift, in a world full of
once meaningful people, places and things. A cool numbness
cloaked them and insulated them from the world, and sadly it
seemed, each other as well.

After many months like this, they finally realised that they
would need to give each other some room to think through
their individual pain, and it was decided that the Man would
leave their home for a time. He went and stayed with his
family some miles away, while the Woman stayed in their
home. Thus began a period of about four months of
separation, and many hours of thought and reflection for
them both.

This period was vital in ways it could not have been had the
man and woman stayed together. They saw one another on most
weekends, and spoke frequently on the telephone in the
evenings, but they used their time apart to think about
themselves, alone and together. Though there was a great
deal of painful history common to them both, and many scars
that perhaps would heal, yet would always remain as a
visible reminder, they both knew in their deepest regions,
that they did truly wish to stay together. And if life was
still not inclined to grant them even some of their hopes
and dreams, then they would at least face that life together
as they had once pledged to do! As often happens though,
expressing this feeling was, and would be, difficult and
awkward. The anger, the hurt, the sad loss of faith in each
other, and again, the scars from the life they looked back
on together, all created a wall between them that would need
something different, something extraordinary to be breeched.
What that "something" was they couldn't define. Individually
they waited, like two ships becalmed at sea within hailing
distance, yet unable to come to each others' aid. Then, as
it can in rare and precious cases, the hand of Fate intervened.

The man's parents had decided to purchase a property not far
from their home. Retired and financially secure from lives
of hard work and determination, they were able to consider
such a move without selling their present home, which they
were quite fond of. They had cultivated an interest in
boating over the last several years and had finally grown
tired of boat trailers and ramps, and the inassesability of
various marinas, and had decided that they should have a
place to permanantly moor their boat. They also were
thinking in terms of a home of somewhat less imposing
dimensions than that which they presently were living in. So
they had begun to look at water-front properties that would require
less attention yet offer the comforts to which they'd become
acustomed, and be so situated as to offer a deep water
mooring for their boats. After some months of searching they
found a modest but airy cottage on a beautiful point of
land, cradled between the arms of a small, brackish bay and
a great sea-bound river. The grounds were pleasant,
managable, and adequate in acreage, the house not too small
or too large, the taxes tolerable, and a price, that while a
bit steeper than the market should have accomadated, was
nonetheless somewhat negotiable, and therefore acceptable.
They loved the house, and excitedly began the process of
negotiation with the current owners.

During this time, as often will happen, they began to
reflect and re-evaluate their feelings for their present
home. And again, not uncommonly, they began to have second
thoughts about giving up their present home. Yet, they had
fallen in love with the cottage on the bay, and by then,
could not really think about giving up the prospect of the
treasures and pleasures that it proffered them. The house
was known as Windemere Cottage, and it had, as surely as the
sun will rise tomorrow, won their hearts completely. To most
of us, this would be an enviable dilema to say the least.
But to the man's parents, it was a point to ponder, and a
deciscion to be made.

************************************************

Late one evening the young man lay on his bed reading. He
was getting tired and decided to go downstairs and make a
cup of tea while his parents were still up. When he passed
through the parlour, his mother looked up and said, "Your
Father wants to discuss something with you if you have a few
minutes."

The man said that he'd be right over, and put the kettle on
the stove. He joined his parents and lit a cigarette, making
himself comfortable. His Father sat in the chair cautiously
beaming. "Your Father wants to ask you something." , said his Mother.
The man turned to his Father. "You know", he said, " your Mother and I
really love this house. But we adore Windemere Cottage. We just don't think
we're ready to give up this place yet. But we want our deepwater mooring, too.
So we'd like to buy the Cottage, but only if you two would like to live there."
He paused.
"Same rent your paying now... but we want you both to be comfortable with the idea."

The man was taken aback more than a little. Here was an
offer that was a dream to him, and also to his wife. A
lovely cottage by the sea! Something he and the woman had
always hoped for. And the cottage was only minutes from the
very Cove where they had courted. Perhaps it was a healing'
spot where they could go and begin fresh. They would always
be near the water. And he thought of his son, Michael, whom
he had always hoped was now a free spirit, in and of the
Sea, and under the loving care of Mother Ocean. Perhaps in a
place like this, he and his wife could be close to Michael
in a way that had not been possible until now. To himself
he muttered a little prayer that this could be so.
"It sounds...wonderful. Unbelievable. I'll call home
tomorrow."

And so, arrangements were made for the following weekend for
them all to go and see the cottage, and to give the man and
the woman a chance to see if this was a step they wanted to
make. In his heart, the man felt sure that it would be.
____________

And so they went to Windemere. And it was fine. The tide was
up, the boats sailed past, the breeze was nearly constant,
and the air was as bracing as could be. It was clear, clean
and refreshing.

The man and the woman held hands and looked out at the Bay,
and in their hearts they knew a new beginning was possible
here. True, it would require work on both their parts. New
understandings and alliances would need to to be formed. Old
assumptions would have to be made new. Scars, though well
healed over yet still visible would need to be tended to
with care and a new incarnation of their love. But without
many words they both knew this would need to be done, and
again without words, they both knew that it could be.
They felt as if a new dawn had come upon them, after a long
hard night of storm. It was as if a long, black fever had
finally broken, and the delerium of the past several years
could clear, offering them together a new path in life.
Before leaving for home they stepped aside and together
looked out at the water again. A rebirth was there; they
felt it. And perhaps little Michael was ,too. They went to
their car and headed off to begin the tasks of moving, not
enamoured of that thought in and of itself but enthused by
the prospect of what their efforts would bring to them.

Six months passed. Healing did take place, and love grew in
a new and special way between them. There was still much
work to be done for them, but this is true for all of us.
Life is a job. It is also a gift, and it can be such an
adventure if we can keep this in mind. Each of us will have
our own adventure. Most of us are fortunate enough to be
able to share ours' with another. The most precious "other",
of course, is one that we love.
And above all else, this man and woman had their love.

During this time they began to settle into their new home.
They celebrated the holidays there together, and with family
and friends. Each day dawned and both of them would look
around at their new home, and out onto the Bay, and say a
silent thanks that they were there. Even in the coldest
winter nights of January, while the wind rushed accross the
Bay at a clip they were quite unfamiliar with having lived
inland for so many years, they would lay a fire in the
hearth and sit before it together, and there they were
comfortable, warm, and full of a new hope.
As April waxed on, the temperatures grew milder, and the
crisp sea air become softer and tinged with warmer gusts.
The man and the woman were filled with the sense of renewel
that Spring carries with it and busied themselves with
cleaning chores. They brought out the garden tools and
readied the lawn mower, moved the grill out onto the deck
and placed their lawn chairs and tables comfortably about in
anticipation of fine weather and good company.
And then one fine evening, the mildest of the season yet to
come, the man put a last few sprinkles of thyme into the
pasta sauce, took a sip of wine, and turned to the woman who
stood at the opposite counter preparing a salad. He set his
wine down and walked over to the woman and put his arm
around her. He kissed her gently and said he was going out
onto the pier for for a breath of fresh air before dinner.
She said she'd join him when she was done. He stepped out.

The man stretched out on his stomach at the end of the pier.
The sun had just set. He lay, eyes forward, looking over the
Bay. There was little boat traffic on this quiet, calm
evening. He began to enter that "day dream" state one gets
when staring off at nature, and the world. He heard the
gurgle and bubble of water as the flood-tide came in
throught the Cut, near to turning, and mixed its' sweet
saltiness with the five rivers that spilled into Little Bay.
The soothing sound of the water-flow passed beneath him,
lulling and calming his soul. His eyes grew slowly and
surely acustomed to the brown edged Spring twilight. The
massive, yet graceful shape of a tardy Great Heron glided
past, on its' way home. The gulls cried their herald of the
oncoming night.

In the kitchen, the woman washed and dried her hands. She
picked up her husband's wine and stepped out onto the deck.
A sudden, velvety plop in the water below the pier, plucked
the man's attention. He lowered his eyes, a vague, shifting
movement there in the water below. He watched. A gentle wave
wended its' way off toward the the channel, reflecting on
the velvety surface above the physical exertions of the
thing swimming below. The whole movement was liquid and
graceful.

Behind, the woman stepped on to the pier and walked out
toward her husband's prone outline lying peacefully at the
edge.

The man followed the movement below with great care, and
inside himself an inexplicable feeling of warmth began to
grow. A warmth centered in his heart and flowing outward. He
sensed a presence, benign and loving in the water below and
before him. And he felt there also, a strong innocence. It
now began to make sense to him as he cast his mind
back...back to the jetty, husband and wife, mother and
father, tossing sky-blue carnations into the sea in a plea
for comfort from Mother Ocean for the pain they bore for the
loss of their son, Michael; The Sea Child.

He had opened his heart that day, and turned his prayers to
the sea herself, the Mother of all of us. He pleaded as only
a bereaved father could, that the sea take and bear at least
some of the weight and pain of he and his wife's burden. And
also, he thought, I asked her to bless and keep our child "
til we all can be together again".

Cautiously he peered out into the evening light, watching
the rippling shape as it slowed and stayed. Nearly to the
spot where her husband lay, the woman slowed, padding to a
quiet halt. Carefully her gaze followed his off into the bay.
Off some fifteen yards, the surface of the water hatched open
as the tiny shape broke through. The man squinted,trying to
discern the details of it. It was human to be sure, and no doubt!
He knew just then what he was witnessing. A Gift!

His somewhat unorthadox ablutions of that day on the jetty had been answered.
As he watched, the small delicate shape held itself above water and began
to resolve itself so he could see the face clearly.
It was Michael...he knew!

It surely wasn't possible; not today, in such a technological world.
A world that moved so fast, changed so unceasingly,
always restless, unsure and chaotic. Always daring humankind to stay apace,
to throw faith and tradition to the winds and embrace the mighty steel Gods
of technology! Surely!

But he knew. Despite what logic told him, he knew what he
was seeing. Behind, the woman dropped the wine glass which
fell to the dock unharmed with a clear dry ring. She stepped
forward and knelt beside her husband's prone form, rested a
hand on his back, making a connection. Wordless, the two
both knew what they witnessed, and watched in silence.

The tiny shape paused, head above water. The twilight was
passing and both the man and the woman squinted, searching
for detail. The shape seemed to be looking at them from
accross the span of gently swirling water, though they could
have only known this in their hearts.

Away to their right, they heard a splash, and then another,
but they could not take their eyes away from their son. As
if hoping for a reversal in the waning light, they continued
their vigil, and waited.
Then the tiny shape turned, facing the flow of the outgoing
tide and began to move with it. The Parents' eyes followed
longingly, trying to prolong this moment forever in life,
rather than just in their hearts and memories. But of course,
that could not be.

As the little swimmer began to fade from sight, a nearby
swirl and a splash distracted them for a moment and they
turned their eyes back toward it.
And there they dimly perceived a shape similar to the one
they'd been watching all along. And then another, and yet
another. Followed by still another. They glanced back down
the bay toward the Cut, but Michael was hidden by the shades
of full evening. Turning back to the other shapes, their
hands found each other, and together they stood, and gazed
out onto the water. So dark now they could barely see the
edge of the dock before them, they partly sensed as much as
saw dozens of tiny shapes in the warm dark current, all moving smoothly,
almost in unison, along with the current, apart yet truly of the water.
They all moved quietly as if following the first swimmer. They followed him
as if he were a sibling. The Sea Child. Their child!

The Man and the Woman watched the joyous procession til they
could see no more. And they grew toward each other, more
closely than they had ever been, and they held each other
tightly. And in their mind's eye, still they could see the
dozens of tiny, pink-white shapes as they swam together,
along with the current, through the Cut, out into the mighty
river and down, happily down to the sea, into the warm arms
of Mother Ocean.

The End