Chasing the Sun

“Have yeh heard the one about the fisherman?”

“Yeah. He drowns at the end, right?”

“No, not that one. That one’s different.”

“The one where he’s tricked by a mermaid?”

“No, not that one.

“The one where he’s taken by pirates?”

“No, not that one.”

“The one where-

“-Dammit, boy, no! Just say ‘No, I haven’t heard it Grampa.’”

“But what if I have heard it?”

“Yeh haven’t heard it ‘cause I haven’t told it to yeh. I know what I’ve told yeh and I know what I haven’t, and this one I haven’t. So just say ‘No, Grampa I haven’t’, so I can tell yeh what I have… Alright?”

“But what if someone else told me?”

“No one’s told yeh, boy. No one’s told yeh any of these stories…”

“Granma tells me stories.”

“Oh, did Granma tell yeh about the mermaid?”

“No.”

“Did Granma tell yeh about the pirates?”

“No.”

“Did Granma tell yeh about that poor soul drowned at the end?”

“No, it’s always your stories he drowns at the end...”

“He doesn’t always drown…”

“Most of the time.”

“Boy, the point is your Granma and I tell yeh different stories. And if I ask yeh what ye’ve heard, I know yeh haven’t heard it. Now do yeh wanna hear the story or no?”

“Seems like you’ve told me a lot of fisherman stories lately…”

“Well, that’s what’s on the menu tonight, lad. Single course. No replacements. Yeh want in or nah?”

“Fine.”

“Alright, sit back easy… there. Ye’re tired. I won’t blame yeh for falling asleep there, ye’ve had a long day.”

“I won’t fall asleep.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before, Tiny… Now, listen-”

“-I WON’T FALL ASLEEP!”

“Alright, alright… Good on yeh, lad. No use getting riled up. No shame in being tired though. Means ye’ve worked hard in the day, and that yeh most certainly have. Now sit back, rest easy, and let me reward yeh with the Fisherman who chased the sun…”

It was a different world once… smaller. And in this world lived a young fisherman with a wife and two children. He was the son of a fisherman, the grandson of a fisherman, and he had lived the same life nearly every day since he was a wee boy. He had learned to wake up before sunrise, take his rowboat out on the water, and spend the day at sea hoping to provide for him and his own. The fish were fat, plentiful, and easy to find in this time, and after catching the day’s fish, he would row back to shore, sell the extras to the storefronts at the market, and keep what was good for his family. By sunset, he would be home with his wife and children, seated around a table recounting the day, eating, laughing, and picking the bones out of his fresh fish...

“This one doesn’t sound as exciting as the others…”

“Next time ye’re getting ice cream you’ll eat the cherry and be done then?”

“No.”

“Then shush.”

Now, one day, the young fisherman simply could not find any fish. He rowed about in all directions, circling, triangulating, hoping to catch something, anything. He tried nets, he tried bait, he tried spears, he tried bargaining with them, he tried jumping in and wrestling them, and he tried pleading to whichever God would listen, and still not a single fish. Frustrated, dismayed, and disappointed, a point came, the man just gave up. The Fisherman had already stayed out on the water later than he ever had before, and he was feeling quite a bit hopeless when he slipped on slick wood, turned his head, and noticed the setting sun for the first time. Awestruck by its pinks and purples and sheer loveliness, the bottom of the sun fell perfectly touching the horizon's edge, and the fisherman became convinced it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen…

He gazed over the water, breath caught stuck between his mouth and his chest when he noticed the sun begin to disappear. Knowing the moment would surely pass, unable to bear the thought of existing without its beauty, the fisherman frantically sat down and rowed desperate towards the sunset to preserve this most precious moment. He rowed his boat fast and he road his boat hard and soon his small world was left behind.

Now, it took a bit of rowing, but the fisherman quickly realized when he rowed too fast, the sun would rise back up, and if he rowed too slow the sun would sink lower on the horizon. He decided that the bottom of the sun neatly meeting the horizon’s edge was most beautiful, and kept rowing at that pace with the setting sun's beauty before him… forever… until the end of time.”

“That’s it?”

“No. The end of time’s a long while… Lots happened.”

“You made it seem like it was over.”

“Yeah well, yeh look tired.”

“I’m not.”

“Alright then…”

After some years, the fisherman was still rowing with the bottom of the sun perfectly touching the tip of the horizon. Only, his eyes were going blind and spotted from staring at the sun, his arms were brittled, and his skin had boiled, blistered, and burnt. The water splashed and salted his wounds and he cried out and cursed at the sunset every day for his torturous existence… But still, he kept rowing through tears, because he felt the sunset was beautiful. Indistinct voices, children’s laughter, shouts, applause passed him by, and still, he kept rowing. His children grown, gone, and forgotten, were only brief seconds of sound, and still, he did not stop. It would be a full 73 years later when his hair had greyed, his curly beard fell to his chest, and his ribs looked ready to tear through his skin that he wept and realized what he had done. The perfect sunset was no longer his magnificent beauty, but a taunting symbol that his existence had become nothing but vanity, pain, and torment … but it was all he had. He was a prisoner now, so he kept rowing through painful tears… for what he called beauty…to have something… to hold on to something… forever until the end of time.”

“Carol, can yeh bring the boy’s milk, please? He’s fast asleep.”

“Did the Fisherman die again?”

“No, he’s endlessly rowing…”

“Ah, that’s a wee bit better.”

“Then he created a wave that crushed his entire family.”

“Kieran!”

“It’s alright, my dear. He fell asleep before it.”

“Can’t you tailor the message a little nicer for the boy? He knows, Kieran, the boy’s not dense."

“He doesn’t need to be smart to see the fisherman’s a piece of sh-“

“-Shhhhh, Kieran! You know you’re poisoning the boy…”

“Ahh, I’m sorry my dear, I know… I… I’m just…”

“It’s alright, my love. I know. I just hope one day you’ll learn to forgive him.”

As Granma Carol opened the fridge to pour a glass in the kitchen, Kieran, looked at the picture prominently displayed by his grandson’s bedside. A young bearded man with red hair crouched down and draped his arms around a boy beaming from ear to ear. The bearded man looked off into the distance with shimmering green eyes, while the boy looked into the camera over sinking sunglasses too big for his face.

He wore the bright smile of a child that could weather your heart in any storm.

Kieran sighed and combed his fingers gingerly through his grandson's hair. “Let him row, my boy… let him row. And when his sun finally sets and his world turns dark, he’ll finally start to realize…

...he went chasing the wrong sun.”