We lovingly named her Georgette, after Kevin’s dad, who gave her to us. She was steadfast. We often remarked on her reliable nature, how she held her head high as she glided elegantly through the water. Equally dependable was she in cresting waves, in surging swells, and in all weather. She guided us fearlessly through rain, sleet, ice-rain, snow, and even broke through a thick layer of ice one frosty morning in Illinois.
And then, three nights ago, with no fanfare or fuss, no bustle or bedlam, she made her graceful exit. Slowly, silently, on a beach on the Tennessee border, she slipped into the night. In water gently lapping against the eroding sands in rising water, she gradually headed southwards. Pausing on rocks, swaying in the current, she carried on without us.
She’s gone.
And then, three nights ago, with no fanfare or fuss, no bustle or bedlam, she made her graceful exit. Slowly, silently, on a beach on the Tennessee border, she slipped into the night. In water gently lapping against the eroding sands in rising water, she gradually headed southwards. Pausing on rocks, swaying in the current, she carried on without us.
She’s gone.
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