Months -- possibly a year or more -- after I'd forgotten all about it, a man called our house asking for me. My father was properly suspicious and protective, but he nevertheless gravely handed me the phone (and then hovered, listening in).

It was a young captain of a lake barge. A crew member had spotted the bottle bobbing along and they'd managed to pick it up. He called to tell me that he'd gotten my message and that my bottle was a "welcome sight at sea." I still remember how warm and full his voice was, how seen I felt even over the miles of copper phone line. The whole world felt magical in that moment.

Eventually of course I grew up, forgot about that bottle all over again, moved away, had a life. Some of it was magical; a lot of it was not. Marriages, divorce, births, deaths, both illnesses and extraordinary vitality. I tried my best to figure out who I was and what I was meant for on this earth but ultimately realized the questions were less important than how I handled the collateral damage that comes of asking the unanswerable.

Now, 40+ years later, I'm back living near the lake again. Did I fail or succeed? At what? And what have I got to compare it all to?

But then, wouldn't you know -- it turns out that one of my next door neighbors is very likely the son of that barge captain. And just like that, a little bit of the magic flows back into the world and I think, maybe. Maybe I can settle a little and stay here for a while.

#storytelling

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