By Jackie Leavitt
The blackness is complete. The sailboat rocks back and forth, the breeze pushing us along from behind, and the vessel feels like an island in outer space. We sail through a void. I can’t tell where the inky ocean meets the black sky, devoid of everything except the faint fingerprints of starlight. No moon is here to illuminate our way. Only the halo from the boat’s Christmas lights, strung over the back bimini, make our white-foam wake distinguishable. I peer off, away from the strands, but I see nothing.