By: Esther Kohl

I’m a weather-beaten boat bobbing along in the storm.

There’s no shore, no island, no dry land as far as the eye can see.

Just a turbulent sea of gray and an angry sky staring down with vengeance.

Why am I still trying to patch the holes?

Why have I not yet thrust the useless oars overboard?

Why have I not succumbed to the waves?

Why have I not stopped rowing, stopped trying to stay afloat in this journey of futility?

Perhaps because the boat holds people that I love.