"Now," he said, when his hand had dried, "I must eat the small tuna. I can reach him with the gaff and eat him here in comfort."
He knelt down and found the tuna under the stern with the gaff and drew it toward him keeping it clear of the coiled lines. Holding the line with his left shoulder again, and bracing on his left hand and arm, he took the tuna off the gaff hook and put the gaff back in place. He put one knee on the fish and cut strips of dark red meat longitudinally from the back of the head to the tail. They were wedge-shaped strips and he cut them from next to the back bone down to the edge of the belly. When he had cut six strips he spread them out on the wood of the bow, wiped his knife on his trousers, and lifted the carcass of the bonito by the tail and dropped it overboard.
Santiago knows that he has to keep up his strength if he is going to outlast the fish. He takes what he needs and gives the rest back to the sea. No waste in anything that he does.
This post will be short. I spent the day in meetings at the library, with department heads and artists and writers. Tonight, I attended a virtual open mic, listened to some of my best friends share their beautiful words and painting and film. Always, these third Thursdays make me excited to belong to this group of artists.
Sometimes, when it is near bedtime, I look back on my day and tally the time I have wasted. The things I didn't complete. Not this evening. I will go to bed knowing that I did the best I could to make every minute of this day meaningful, either working or connecting with friends.
This last hour or so of the day, I am going to watch some of the Beijing Winter Olympics, which always inspires me. Seeing people of such physical talent doing what they love is like reading a Sharon Olds poem. It makes me want to do better. Write better. Be better.
Saint Marty will sleep well tonight, dreaming of being head and shoulders above.
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