After Marisa graduated from law school in Boston, along with a good portion of her family, we headed a few hours further northeast to a little cottage on the ocean. In fact, Lubec, the town we were staying in, marks the eastern most point of the contiguous United States. We looked forward to being the first people in America to see the sunrise, but we encountered a majority of rain instead. No worries, it was still quite beautiful.
We arrived late in the afternoon, and I woke up early the next day to take a walk along the water. I saw a small peninsula off in the distance, and determined that I would reach the end of it before turning around. As I walked, I started singing about the eastern ocean meeting the land, reflecting on four challenging and inspiring years in Boston that was about to end with our impending move back home to Alaska in another month. I was grasping for words to encapsulate the ways that I had changed and grown over our time in the northeast, hoping that it looked something like a shift from “servant boy” to “dreaming man.”
As I walked along the beach and toward the start of the peninsula, the rain started coming down a little harder, and the wind picked up with a slight threat. I ducked my head and pressed on, raising my voice a little louder and allowing the weather patterns to provide the lyrical content: “Heaven’s rain is pouring down, more is lost and less is found, there’s still a storm I’m ready to confound.”
By the time I reached the peak of the peninsula, the tide was rushing in and I knew I had my work cut out for me in getting back to the cottage in one piece. But I felt untamed and ready to take on the wind (perhaps with the slight inspiration of Lieutenant Dan). I stared defiantly at the Atlantic Ocean and cranked out the bridge: “Your eyes as wide as the sea, no fear that you have to flee, your purpose: possibility.”
Long story short, I made the return journey (evidenced by my writing today). I closed the back door of the cottage and rushed to the bedroom, quickly transcribing the lyrics before I lost them, the paper smudged with the remnants of the rain and ocean water on my clothes.
The song was complete, and so was our time where the eastern ocean meets the land.