Open Seas

Like so many people, I love the ocean. This late afternoon we are being treated to a sensation we don’t often feel even though we do live just steps from the beach. Seeking an escape from the shadows of the rear deck, we’ve taken up a perch on the ship’s port side -- where the sun shines warmly and the breeze we felt before has subsided. My feet are up on the railing, my chair tilted back, a tequila and oj inches away. Lily is reading, facing the sun. There is near silence here too, something that has eluded us in the past 4 days. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, beyond these railings. Just ocean and sky. To our right a bit, the lowering sun has turned the sea ablaze, blindingly so. To our left, the ocean is slate blue and so very, very flat. It is as peaceful a moment as one can reasonably expect to enjoy. Other than the muted voices of folks at near-by tables, the only sound is the ocean’s. More particularly, the sound the ocean makes as this large ship cuts through it on its way northwest. The sounds of foam and spray. There is a gorgeous randomness to the wave action out there. Some of it rolls away from us, some toward us. There are intricate patterns in the waves I have never noticed before, almost like a very fine latticework. Is it really possible these waves we are enjoying originated thousands of miles away? Brazil, maybe. West Africa? Who knows? But, I don’t want these moments to go unnoticed. They are just too serene and too beautiful.

Our ship rocks ever so slightly, just enough to remind us we are not on land. No birds, no planes, no other ships. Just us.

I am happy.