Did you ever have one of those weeks?
I feel like I'm the captain of a ship that's been adrift, locked in a dead calm with safe harbor in sight yet maddeningly out of reach. The cool, sea breezes that once carried my ship have left like a lover after discovering betrayal.
I can hear the grumblings of the crew. I can still silence them with a glare or a barked, "I am Captain of this vessel, dammit, and you will do as I say," but I find myself quelling them more and more often as I see the signs of discontent fester. The flag of the ship huddles against the mast; a bellwether of the ship's morale.
This vessel which I have captained so well for so long languishes in the still waters. The reserves dwindle. The monotony of the sound of the water against the hull drives the isolation home with a dull, "slap. slap. slap." The sun bears down with a physical weight and pushes the captain, myself, closer to the brink.
Resolve comes uneasily from some unplumbed depth. Whether released by some kind fortune or pulled by sheer force of will, it does not matter. It rises unsteadily at first, like an air bubble buffeted by currents in the water. Finally, it sparkles in the light from the surface above and crests.
Something has to be done. If I must swim though these waters with a rope in my teeth pulling this ship to safety then I will do it. I will pull. Every. Fucking. Inch.
I will brave the sharks. I will defy the weather. I will persevere.
It doesn't matter how I sailed here. My charge will be delivered safely.
Now to slip into the waters and make my own safe passage.