I guess it's technically dawn. The sky is still dark, a rich deep blue, with smudges of clouds just above the horizon to the east, where I can see the first hint of light. Normally, at this hour, I'm waking up, not paying attention to the sky as I drag myself out of bed, but this morning I've had lots of time to note the changing colors, because I've been up for two hours already.

I woke up suddenly at 4:00, realizing that I hadn't heard from the Keelhauler, who is delivering a boat from San Diego to Santa Barbara. He called at 2:30 the previous morning, off Catalina, to tell me he was en route and expecting to arrive later that night. That was more than 24 hours ago, and when I tried to call his phone, I got no answer.

I called Santa Barbara Harbor Patrol, who told me the boat hadn't come in, and then I called the Coast Guard. The Keelhauler and I had talked about it before he left--what I should do if I didn't hear from him--and so I called, spoke to the Petty Officer on duty. His name was McCarthy, and he took down all the relevant information--make and model of the boat, crew names and contact numbers, home port, destination, time due in--and said he'd call me back.

I am sitting in the cockpit of our boat, smoking a cigarette, which the Keelhauler would hate, but which is my reaction to stress.

He could have had engine trouble and is sailing instead of motoring. The VHF radio might be out. Maybe he dropped anchor somewhere to wait for light, or turned in at another harbor. Maybe he got in very late and didn't have a way to call me. His phone battery could have run down.

I'm sitting here, wrapped in my little crocheted afghan, smoking and watching the sky lighten, waiting for the phone to ring, and smoking another cigarette, hoping that all my worries will be for nothing. It's so cold, and all I can think is, "Please come home, please come home, please come home."

Star of the day. . .Venus