Bad, bad, bad, bad. How long can this go on?
Earlier, when I was at the helm and we all happened to be up on deck at the same time, I turned to see Uncle Stew with his arm around Brian, and Uncle Mo with his arm around Cody, and Uncle Dock gripping the rail and staring out to sea. Was he thinking of Rosalie? I wanted to leave the helm and put my arm around Uncle Dock, or have him put his arm around me, but I couldn’t leave my position.
We are all alone out here.