Buried at Sea

The tugboat entered the bay with the morning fog. Its horn shattered the silence of the Sunday stillness — a mournful sound that echoed over the water and off the beach houses and back — disturbing the herons and seals.

People stood on the spit, silent. The horn blast was all around them; a burial cloth of acoustics. On the boat, flags flew from the bow. An old woman in her wheelchair sat in the stern.

All along the shores of Horsehead Bay, people stood on their decks and piers with binoculars. And they waited. Another blast from the horn. Ashes hit the water to be swallowed by the Sound.

The tugboat, tasked with solemn duty, steamed away.

— 30 —

Jonny Eberle is a writer and observer of humanity in Tacoma, WA. You can follow this blog and his super interesting Twitter account. Thanks for reading.

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