I sail the ocean depths, not to travel the world, but
because I fell in love with her changing moods.
— Anthony T. Hincks
Aweigh of Life
A Memoir and Travel Tales of Seven Years in the South Pacific
An anchor aweigh is one that is just clear of the bottom. I was never tethered tightly to my family body, nor was I brought close in for nurturing and protection. I felt I was not an essential thing to protect. As a young child, I was tied by a thin string that broke again and again. I tugged hard so they’d know my strength, and they’d see my accomplishments. “Am I good enough now?” Seeing my demands not as a need for recognition but as rebellion, they tied thicker ropes with stronger knots made of stricter rules. But they too frayed quickly, eaten away by the acid anger of an unhappy family. I drifted from home because there was nothing to hold me, and when I was far enough away, I pulled the anchor up completely and stowed it deep inside to put down only if or when I found safe harbor.
Anchor aweigh, I touched that exhilarating freedom of deep waters. I ceased to look for safe harbor. I sought out the storms and mountains, any challenge that proved that I could survive without them, an ever-broadening pronoun. I changed course, changed boats, just as tides turned and winds shifted, like moods changing hour by hour, day by day, leaving flotsam floating on receding horizons, never thinking that they would be the pieces I’d gather up one day to find my way home and the reason I left.
A Few Scenes from Aweigh of Life
