Yesterday Per and I went out sailing with Sara and her dad. It was the kind of afternoon one felt nostalgic for even as it was still unfolding. There were a few complications as we got going. Per and I sat and watched as Sara untangled the dinghy line which had gotten wrapped around the boat. I was watching her through the plastic wind guard when the sail finally took the wind properly and we were off. A blurred version of her threw out her arms in the sunshine and exclaimed “We’re sailing!"

Coming out of Jeddore Harbour she pointed out where the family of minks had popped up last year. As we went along the afternoon mixed itself in its mixing bowl, becoming a dreamy mixture of images and sounds combined and no longer linear.

An eel fisherman drew in his nets. Osprey hovered high above or skimmed along just above the surface. Sara said Look At That when one dove down suddenly and caught a fish.

We came out towards the mouth of the Harbour where the open ocean began. Jeddore Rock was ahead in the fog with its automated lighthouse. There used to be a real lighthouse there and someone lived in it. I tried to picture who it might have been, and wondered what they did there with all those evenings in the fog. The buoys chimed and groaned. I closed my eyes to see what it was like to listen for them in fog. The swells got bigger and the movement of the boat changed, rocking over the swells, up and down. I started to feel sick and we laughed.

We listed all the things we wanted to see: whales, seals, porpoises, dolphins. Passing islands I pointed out my favourite ones, this one chosen for its scraggly awkwardness, that one for its round containment.

The boom swooped suddenly to the other side and Sara, standing, ducked narrowly under it. “I was nearly killed!” she said happily, and I understood.