# The Pier

## A Place Between

A pier is neither land nor sea. It reaches out from the shore, steps suspended above water, ending where the waves begin. On a quiet morning you walk its length and feel the shift: solid wood underfoot giving way to the sway of something larger. The pier does not try to become the ocean. It simply offers a way to stand inside the question.

I have always liked that honesty. Most days we pretend we belong entirely to one side or the other. We are either safe on the beach or lost at sea. A pier refuses that choice. It lets you feel both at once.

## What We Carry

Early light, salt air, the soft clink of rigging. People come to the end of the pier carrying different things. Some bring fishing rods and patience. Others bring sorrow they do not know how to set down. A few just stand and watch the horizon until their thoughts grow quiet enough to hear the water breathe.

The pier holds them all without comment. It does not hurry them or ask for explanations. Its only job is to be there, steady and plain, until they are ready to walk back.

## Small Acts of Courage

Every time someone steps onto a pier they practice a gentle kind of bravery. They agree to stand at the edge of what they know. They let the wind push against them. They watch something vast and indifferent move beneath their feet and still choose to remain.

There is no drama in it. Just the quiet decision to go a little further than the safety of dry ground.

*On a pier we learn we do not have to choose between staying and leaving. We only have to stand where the two meet.*

*11 July 2026*