A tiny wooden yacht in a sad state of repair has stood by the side of the road on the way to Kommetjie for some years now. The other day the wooden supports collapsed and the little boat sank to the ground and lay dejectedly on her side. Today a crane and lowbed came to take her away. The end of someone's dream to sail the high seas in search of adventure.
But perhaps that little boat did once sail the seas and had merely come to the end of a long and happy life bobbing on the waves. Perhaps her owner passed on and she stood idle at her mooring or on a cradle in a boatyard, waiting for a new owner to take her back onto the open waves, where the salt spray could splash her decks once more. Perhaps her owner had lovingly built her, plank by plank, and painted her in his favourite colours and named her after his favourite lady. Perhaps there were many years of adventure, with young and old taking turns to hoist her sails, and hundreds of welcome meals prepared in her tiny galley. Perhaps her dreams came true.
I would like to think so.
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