The Fisher Woman
in a sea-side village lived an old woman. She was
blind in one eye and had one bad leg. Because of this, she had to use a
crutch when she walked, and
often had to stop and rest.
Early each morning she would leave the
village and make her way down to the shore, load her boat with supplies and row out to sea.
I would accompany her to the
and see her off. Sometimes,
I would ask if I could go with her. Because I was young, only
eight, she would always
reply, "You can, once you've grown to the height of
Each evening she would return
and share the fish she caught that day
those in need.
When she was in
need of money she would sell
On star-lite nights the fisher woman
would build a big fire on the beach.
There we would all gather, the young and the not so young. She would
tell great stories of adventure and intrigue. Often
late into the night after everyone
had gone to bed just the two of us would talk.
And she'd often say to me, "Love, all else is but preparation!"
One day she went out to fish - never to
A bad storm had blown
in, the worst
in my eight years that I'd ever seen.
The villagers had searched and searched, but the fisher woman was never to be found.
At her memorial, I heard my father say to my mom, "If anyone exemplified
living a life with purpose and dignity - it was her."
The village mourned her loss, but none
as much as me.
E. Stevenson April 8,
2001 © www.Upoet.com