The Island

There was an island where the fiord arms open and the     ocean begins
  it was a nice little island with trees and a strip of sand for the boy to play
  he had no interest in swimming, favoured to build dreamy sandcastles.
Not that the boy couldn´t swim, his father had thought him; he didn´t like it
the sea was cold, and monster might lurk in the unseen depth.
There was also a strong current further out depending on the way of the ocean, his father,
who was a strong swimmer, often swam where the current was strong; he called it fighting against the elements?
I saw him waving his arms; he waved back, another current took him around the island, he was still waving but looked distressed. he walked up to the cabin
and told his mother, who ran and loosened the rowing boat from its mooring
To find him, but he had disappeared. The coast guard came they were looking for him; he knew they
would not see him he had been eaten by a sea monster, but he said nothing
The stay on the island had been a happy one for his parents. She was pregnant and hoped for a
daughter, life was beautiful for them, and now this.
A motorboat came and took them back to town, families came, there were many tears,
he was asked why he hadn’t told his mother the first time he saw his father
Waving, a question he could not answer.
His mother gave birth to a beautiful baby everyone said she looked like her father
he didn´t think so, she was just beautiful. The daughter grew up and went off to university
So, it was only him and his mother left in the old house.
She took to drinking and, in her cups, hinted that had he called the first time,  He might be alive now;
he never answered.
His mother committed suicide drowning in her bath-tup.
The house was sold.
The daughter needed the money, and he became a wanderer voyaging across the many seas.
Always restless, the sense of guilt was always there.
Sometimes he dreamt he was the monster swallowing his father.
Now as he is an old man, he wrote a letter to his sister, he so much needed someone absolving him of guilt, there was never any answer.