The chilly September air, hits my face as I look to the approaching dock. We are arriving in Grafton, Illinois. I run my hands through my inky black hair, breathing in the smell of the polluted air, the river water, and what seems to be dead fish. But I don’t wrinkle my nose as many of the passengers do, I am a sailor and this is my life. As we dock, I help with the ropes, tying the knots as my father taught me. My scarred and calloused hand are swift and nimble. I look towards the busy city, people are everywhere. Steamboats larger than I have ever seen before are docking near us,and in the distance I see a railroad. As people exit, I hear snippets of conversation.
“... has the best business community in the north, they say.”
“Oh, yes, that
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St. Patrick’s Church. I go in and thank the Lord for my new pearl. I was raised a good Catholic and I have not given up my practices. Once out again, I walk along the streets, looking through shop windows and inspecting company buildings. The sun is starting to set as I begin to get hungry. I passed a fish shop before and soon, I find myself standing in front of the ordering counter. The smell of food makes my stomach grumble and I order a meal fit for a king… or at least partly fit for a king because my paycheck is much less. I find myself a bench near the riverfront, and dig in. The fish is cooked to perfection; the outer layer crispy, and the inside, clean and fresh and flavorful. I eat a mouthful of buttered peas next, and almost start crying. The food is delicious here. The warm peas slip through my lips and burst inside my mouth with their soft, smooth, fresh taste. My meal vanishes quickly. As I have been finishing my food, the sun has been dipping lower and lower in the sky, and now it is almost dark. I know I must leave soon. I stand up, lick my lips, and start walking back to the dock. Soon, my boat is filled with passengers, all of the ropes are untied, and we are setting off again. As I lay in my bed later, I know today was a success. As I drift off, I find myself clutching my black