April 15: Take It When It Comes, Good Friday, Colored Eggs

Santiago stops thinking about the future . . . 

"Don't think, old man," he said aloud. "Sail on this course and take it when it comes."

But I must think, he thought. Because it is all I have left. That and baseball. I wonder how the great DiMaggio would have liked the way I hit him in the brain? It was no great thing, he thought. Any man could do it. But do you think my hands were as great a handicap as the bone spurs? I cannot know. I never had anything wrong with my heel except the time the sting ray stung it when I stepped on him when swimming and paralyzed the lower leg and made the unbearable pain.

"Think about something cheerful, old man," he said. "Every minute now you are closer to home. You sail lighter for the loss of forty pounds."

He knew quite well the pattern of what could happen when he reached the inner part of the current. But there was nothing to be done now.

An easy Good Friday.  I played Mass at 6 p.m. and then colored eggs with my kids.  

Saint Marty's koan for the night:  sometimes getting home means fighting with blood-hungry sharks.