Buoy |
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Buoy rolled lazily on the long low swell of the Sea. Buoy lived far from land; so far that only on the days when the Clouds raced against each other and the Wind seemed a bit angry, could Buoy just barely, ever so slightly, make out something to the East that was neither the Sea nor the Sky. But Buoy didn't mind at all. He loved the Sea and the Sky. He loved their blueness and wondered how it could be that his redness complemented them so perfectly. |
![]() ![]() With heartfelt thanks to my editor, Lauri Hornik |
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Illustrations by Raúl Colón
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STORY: Many years
ago I was helping my Uncle Paul move his boat from Long Beach to Marina del Rey. It was a
calm night as we made our way around Pt. Fermin. Out of the darkness came the buoy which
marks the shipping lane in these waters. It sat all alone bobbing on the swell. It was
beautiful in the moonlight. And very peaceful. Paul said, "There's something to write
a story about." So I did. But Buoy is about more than that. It is about the
sea, the earth, and home. How they all go together. And how we must remember that home is
defined by more than our location.
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Spanish |