The Art of Psycho Therapy...

The Houseboat

"My dad would sing a song to me in the morning." Muzzy made some hot cocoa.
Xan braided her hair, "I never knew my father. My mother would not speak of him."
The houseboat rolled with the waves from the lightning storm.
"Your mom must have been tough" Muzzy smiled and passed her the cocoa in a mug.
They sat on the couch, sipping cocoa, as the rain peppered the window behind them.
"How did she get the name Hanoi Xan?" Muzzy queried.
Xan smiled and gazed out the window, "Is that a water tornado?"
Muzzy looked out at the water spout a few miles away, "That it is."

He ran outside in the torrential downpour and untied the moorings.
"We're moving a distance off the dock!" Muzzy haulered.
Muzzy scrambled to the motor house and started the engines.
The houseboat slowly moved out of the dock.
Xan took the throttle and feathered it, "Do not fight the tide."
The houseboat rolled toward the rocky crag.
Xan turned it against the tide slightly and out into the bay.
"You did it!" Muzzy exclaimed and kissed her on the cheek.
Xan giggled, "I sailed my mother's junk as a child."

"Thank God." Muzzy laughed.
Her eyes narrowed, "God has nothing to do with it."