America, One Moment at a Time — #8

The 6 O’Clock Horn

From where we stay in Lynn, this is the view across the harbour. The breakwater stretches towards the Atlantic, with the distant residential shoreline beyond it.

Every morning, at around six o’clock, a ferry leaves Lynn for Boston.

I don’t see it every morning.

But I hear it.

One short blast of its horn carries across the water from the harbour.

And somehow, without intending to, I have begun to recognise it as the sound that starts the day.

We arrived in Lynn as visitors.

At first, the harbour was simply something beautiful to look at.

The calm water.

The boats sitting quietly at anchor.

The long breakwater.

The ocean beyond it.

And, in the distance, the houses lining the shore.

It was just a view.

Until one morning, I noticed a sound.

A short blast of a ferry horn.

Six o’clock.

The day was beginning.

At around six, a familiar sound crosses the water — a short blast from the Lynn Ferry as it begins its journey towards Boston.

The ferry leaves Lynn and heads towards Boston, carrying people who are beginning their own daily journeys.

Some are probably going to work.

Some may have appointments or errands.

Some may simply be heading somewhere they need to be.

For them, it is probably just another commute.

Nothing particularly remarkable.

But from my window, watching it move across the morning water, I began to see something slightly different.

Leaving Lynn behind, the ferry moves past the breakwater and out towards the open water. For the passengers, it is probably just another morning commute. For me, it has slowly become part of the morning.

There is something reassuring about watching something leave at almost exactly the same time each morning.

It doesn’t wait for the sky to become brighter.

It doesn’t wait for the harbour to become busy.

It doesn’t wait until everyone is ready.

It simply leaves.

And the people on board go with it.

Some are probably heading to work. Others may have appointments, errands, or somewhere they simply need to be. Whatever the destination, the day has begun — and they are on their way.

And perhaps that is what has stayed with me most.

We often think that beginning something requires a grand moment.

A clear signal.

A perfect plan.

A little certainty that everything will work out.

But most of life doesn’t begin that way.

Most days simply arrive.

And we begin with them.

Sometimes because we are ready.

Sometimes because we have no choice.

And sometimes simply because we hear that little reminder that the world has already started moving.

It’s time to begin.

We don’t always need to know exactly where the day will take us.

We just need to get moving. Because sometimes, all it takes is a small sound across the water to remind us that the world has started moving — and it is time for us to move with it.