Over the Horizon

Sometimes, when the earth under my feet seems too solid, I miss the sway of the sea.  Some nights when my bed feels too steady and the room too quiet, I miss the gentle rocking and the reassuring murmurings of a living ship at sea.  Though it pains me to admit it, and though I surely struggled against it, a part of me will always yearn for a cool bulkhead against my back as I stare off into the unequaled beauty of the moon reaching out to me as she rises over the sea.  It is at once peaceful and melancholy, that bittersweet second that you’re overwhelmed by the sheer grandeur of the universe yet too far from those you love most to share this enchanting moment.

Sometimes, when I realize the floor beneath me is just a floor; I miss the deckplates, the ladders, the water tight doors and the hatches of a ship at sea.  Some days when I realize the view out my window will always stay rooted to one spot; I miss the foc’sle, the fantail, the amidships passage and the ever changing horizon of a ship at sea.  Though I fought with every fiber of my being to avoid it, and made every bawdy boast I could think of to my shipmates that I would never miss a minute onboard, I do in fact long to slice through the swells and hear the booming of the waves pounding the hull again.

Sometimes, when I see a line of ships, their ensigns whipping in the wind, their bows cutting through the open ocean, and the foam churning in the wake of their passing … I remember the ocean sway, the ever present thrum of the engines, and those faithful souls who journeyed with me on the sea.  Those waves have come and gone.  Life at sea has shaped who I am, and because the sirens call of the deep still echoes in my heart, I will always long to see over the horizon…