New Home

Andy Wall was going to his new home. Saying good bye to this one was not easy. Saying good bye to anything was not easy.

He stood behind the steering wheel and felt the fine salt breeze in his face. On a night like this, with the wind coming from north north east, it was really hard not to think about places he could go. Just tonight, with the wind like it was he could make it into Rock Harbor by 2200. Tie up to a mooring ball. Go have a drink or two or three or four. Check out the Jamaican natives. Except he needed to go a little farther than Rock Harbor.

He set the auto-pilot when his GPS said he was 160 miles from landfall. He stepped back from under the Bimini and looked around. The papers were in the water-tight locker in the port berth. His .38 was wrapped in a baggy stuffed in his waistband.

He jumped off the back of his boat before he could reconsider and think about Jamaica, or the Islands beyond Jamaica, or his daughter. He looked up at his new home hearing his sailboat sailing away. Then he rolled over on his back and looked up at the stars.

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