The Corkline

It can feel silly to sit down and try to express everything you're thankful for. Trying to line up and count your blessings can be a great challenge, and for the lucky among us, even an impossible one. But it's the thought that counts.

Gazing out the window of our office, I see a snow-covered harbor. Boats bump gently against the wood of the dock, a chill wind blowing across their decks, mostly empty, save for those foolish few brave enough to bear the cold. With half the boats of summer out-of-the-water or harbored elsewhere, it feels empty. But, at the same time, the site of familiar hulls and well-known names provides a juxtaposing feeling of connection. This will always be the harbor of the Copper River Fleet. This will always be the home of our fearless fishermen, whom we are forever thankful for. Thank you to every man, every woman, every child, and every boat. You are what makes this possible.

Looking further, I see Orca Inlet, and the path leading towards the Copper River Flats. The water is calm, as the day is clear. Blue of the sky and blue of the water blend together in a harmony of color, jaggedly broken by the green and white of surrounding mountains. Despite the cold, life carries on. Creatures of the sea continue their swimming, birds up above fly on further. Time has slowed, but it has not stopped. Life will keep with this carrying on, until time is no more. Salmon will swim, eagles will fly. Bears will sleep, and eventually wake. The roar of summer and the whistle of winter will trade places once again. And we will be thankful for every moment.

As I write on, the sun begins to shine on neighboring buildings. The warm rays that sustain us all glow graciously on the faces of friends and family. Smiles break out as the drip-drip-drip of water falls freely, every snow-covered roof contributing to the deluge. These moments where everything is calm, and all is well. These are the moments the thankfulness flows. Without so much as a simple beckoning, love pervades our little town.