Storm of Life

It had been a tough season thus far.

The schools had not yet begun to run, the water was constantly rough, tossing the boat side to side, his back was sore, his hands throbbed, covered in blisters as he rowed against the swells. It was hard work and it was yielding him nothing. Every day he went back to shore with an empty net, the more and more concerned he became. It didn't matter to him that his reputation was diminishing - that there were grumbling amongst the locals, especially the young men that the once great fisherman had lost his touch with the sea. No, it was concern for his family.

Their well being.

It wasn't just his boat that wasn't pulling in fresh seafood everyday. Others had felt the strain of an empty ocean. As a result, prices on the market skyrocketed. Soon the inflation bled into other parts of the city. Utilities went up. Living costs increased. Taxes soon followed. It wasn't just his family feeling the pinch of the economy anymore, but the entire island.

Everything in life was cyclical. He had prepared for a moment like this. It had happened before when he was younger and he knew it would happen again. Luckily, over the years he was able to save some money - hidden away amongst the floorboards of their house. Only he knew it was there and slowly but surely, it was running out. It could only keep them afloat for so much longer. As the price for food kept climbing, the funding hidden beneath their feet diminished. They needed the fish to come back.

As he propelled the boat forward with each drive of the paddle, his shoulders burned. He was getting old and his muscles were never too shy to remind him. But this morning was different. He had high hopes for what he was going to find out beyond the reefs. As he continued out, deeper into the bay, he soaked in how calm it all was. There were no other boats out, just his, gliding across the glossy, early morning water. No one, not even the younger men dared to go out today. He could see it off in the distance - the storm just beginning to break free from its prison in the clouds. Even from where he was, he could tell it was angry - cascading down in thick sheets, pounding the ocean with hundreds of gallons of water - thousands of tiny fists pelting the waves below. And it was still young. There were hours for it to mature, build in ferocity, absorb the swirling winds and spit them back out, expanding its reach.

And he knew he needed to head straight toward it.

When he was younger, the last time the fish hadn't arrived yet, his father taught him to go towards the first big storm on the horizon. It churned the ocean, bringing to the surface the colder waters of the deep and with that, the fish. It drew them towards the sunlight, where his nets would be waiting. But even as a kid, with his father by his side, riding into the storm had been one of the scariest moments of his life. He wasn't sure if they were going to make it back, but they did, unscathed and with a boat filled with fish.

He knew what he had to do. Swallow his fear and continue straight into the eye of the storm. Not for pride or his reputation in the town.

But for his family.