To the far north of Scotland lie the Hebridean Isles.  Life there is hard and lonely.  Waves pound the rocky shores making travel difficult and dangerous.  However, for those with skill and courage, the ocean yields a rich harvest upon which a family can live.  

A man, just passed boyhood, with not enough money to afford a house on the populated coast,  lived in a low cottage, alone on a small island amid the fertile waves.  His companions were the birds, the wind and the great grey seals that visited every year.

Peace can be found close to the breaking shore. The rhythm of life is more apparent there.  The water slaps time against the rock and sand.  Birds shriek, crabs scuttle and seals bellow in ruckus harmony against ocean’s beat.  In gleeful delight with her own music, the planet pirouettes in dizzy orbit around her conflagrant partner, and, far from municipal lights, you see the glowing, star spangled curtains of their galactic arena wheel, as they spin and dance.

On a neighbouring island was a wise-woman.  She lived on top of a high cliff at the head of a narrow bay where the hollow boom of water blended with the shriek of gulls.  From there you could watch the whales sing their long, slow songs as they swam to their northern feeding grounds.  

The journey to the old  woman’s cottage was not long, however, it was not to be taken lightly.  While she could foretell events before they happened, and could lay a clear path through questions shrouded by confusion, you often learned more than was comfortable.  Ignorance can make life an easier road to travel.

The boy had only one question. Solitude is the mother of loneliness and the young man yearned for companionship lacking fins or feathers.

The woman greeted him outside her door.  The day was clear and she was chopping wood.  The sound of the axe was clear.  It bounced rhythmically clear across shrubby vegetation streamlined by the wind into aerodynamic curves.  She glanced from her work.  

“You’ve seen the grey seals?” she asked.  The boy said nothing.  “If you visit the shore by the full moon you might see them in their human form”.  

At this she paused and looked straight at him.  “By the moon they shed their seal skins.  Perhaps, if you held that which binds them to the waves one might answer the question that is in your mind.”

The boy still made no word.  The woman lifted her axe and resumed her work.

The next month the boy waited patiently by the shore.  The sun sank slowly on the west horizon.  A silent green flash applauded its departure.  All was silent.  Earth’s little sister rose high, fat and full, her light highlighting bullet shaped forms in the surf.  It appeared those shapes stood and shed some heavy garment.  Then tall and lithe they sprinted, stomping puddles and chasing each other with kelp fronds.

The boy crept toward the figures.  As he reached the tide mark he saw a young woman bent over collecting shells.  He looked around and saw an empty skin nearby.  He picked it up.  The leather was soft, supple and warm, as if the blood still flowed beneath it.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

The boy looked up.  Before him stood the girl naked and without shame.  “I found you where the moon dances on the waves” he replied.

“What do you call me?” she asked.  

“I name you for the deep water’s lament, I call you Whale Song,” he replied.

“What do you bring me?”

“I bring you a warm house, a clear heart and a quiet mind,” he answered.

With this the girl took his hand and they walked together from the beach.

The next twelve months were the happiest the boy had ever known.  The girl possessed the gifts of laughter and of silence. She heard the rhythm in the sun’s path across the sky and one year and one day later their first child was born.  Again the girl and the boy stood at the ocean’s edge.

“How do you find me?” she asked.

The boy looked up.  Before him stood the girl beaming with happiness and pride.

“I find you warm by the fire’s glow” he replied.

“What do you call me?”

“I call you for that which binds us, the thoughts we have shared, the passion in the dark, and the child we share, I call you wife” he replied.

“What do you bring me?”

“I bring a home and all the love I have to give,” he replied.

Time passed and more children came. They grew wild and skinny.  The boy taught them to fish and find their way across the waves and in the flickering dark the girl taught them the lore of the deep sea.

Again the girl met the boy by the ocean’s edge.

“How do you find me?” she asked.

“I find you smiling by the lapping waves.” he replied.

“What do you call me?”

“I call you by the children we raise and the life we share.”

“What do you bring me?”

The boy just smiled and held out his hand.  Together they walked back across the sand.

The days passed richly, the nets were full and their fields yielded a bountiful harvest.  The boy was a gentle husband and the girl a laughing wife.  They were content, but, when the summer’s moon waxed broad and round he would find her by the water gazing at the rolling surf.  

The boy’s hair turned grey and the girl remained spritely.  Their children grew wise and found their own path.  One day the boy grew too stiff to draw the straw from the top of their barn to feed their cow.  The girl climbed up to bring the feed down.  When she reached the loft she found the forgotten skin the boy had stolen and hid long ago.

The leather was still warm and supple.

The boy was bent repairing his nets when he heard the splash.  He looked up and saw a great grey seal look back at him across the waves.  Then it was gone.

The seals still come to that shore to raise their pups and hunt in safe waters.   They chase each other in the waves and scratch themselves contentedly in the warm sun. 

The boy is gone.  His children’s children live there and welcome the seals every year.