Tide goes in, tide goes out. But what stays is a whole world unto itself. You’d think being a fisherman’s daughter, I would have understood all his crazy sayings by now. It’s too cold on the shore for anyone else, but fitting for me to be here; leaping from rock to rock across the pools just like I had as a child. I chase my memories among the battering of onshore winds that deafen me to anything but my thoughts. My ballet flats perch atop a thin black rock and my arms reach out in balance against the brooding gray sky. Little droplets of rain sting like barbs when they…