My father had always dreamt of building a boat but his obsession of drinking killed him with hepatic cancer before he could gather enough funds.
I do not blame him. After my mother died and I moved to a different city for my post graduation, alcohol was his soul companion.
That day I was at our home and I found out a layout for the boat that my father had designed.
My wife Mary thought it was a bad idea to leave my job and devote my time in building a boat.
But I owe it to him.
This is written for Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers challenge based on this photo by Fatima Fakier Deria.