It feels good to stay away from the ocean for a brief moment. The comfort of walking straight, of taking shower without being periodically thrown into the stall. Even a small comfort of pissing while standing up.
But I know already what I am going to miss starting tomorrow. My inept giant strides into the abyss, coolness of immeasurable waters, an OK from Melanie on the deck responding to my fist on the head salute. I’ll miss weightlessness, the calm, the multidimensional space around me. I’ll miss hiding from the current behind coral heads and looking at graceful, never ending dance of submerged universe. And the excitement of spotting shark gliding nearby. I’ll miss the experience of being juggled in my bunk as the boat makes its way home though choppy seas. It’s the sensation not much different from skiing in the fresh powder. Except of course the there are no skis. Or snow.
The sea is where we came from. We carry the ocean in every cell of our stressed bodies. We reunite briefly supported by our magical breathing devices and by this ridiculously small things we call boats. We rewind evolution by attaching long lost fins to our feet and cover ourselves in neoprene so that we can belong again, if only for a moment.
So today I’m dry and happy. And tomorrow the longing begins.