Boat life

I used to work on a ship in the Pacific, and these were my experience and thoughts.
beneath the surface

beneath the surface

Some people always think I’m running. Or your running. That we are all running. 

And they always ask  “What are you running from?”

They always ask with a prosthetic concerning tone strategically laced between each word.

I want to say “Why are you sitting still? Why are you afraid of life?”

I am sitting on the aft of the upper deck of this ship on the great salty Pacific. I’m watching the sunset wash from cotton candy to slate and I can’t believe this is my life. I fall in love with the unseen in the vast ocean. I fall in love with my allusive ship family. All of this is my life. My love. I cannot fathom I deserve such a life at times. When a humpback smacks his fluke on the water and the sound mimics a gunshot as he get ready to breach. As a grey whale looks at me with one curious, mysterious gaze as I stare at my own reflection in his onyx pooled eye. I graze his head with my human hand and he nudges for more and spouts fishy saltwater out of his blowhole onto my face. This mere action, which I’m sure would make most people let out a sound of disgust, emits a surprising sincere laugh, a laugh I haven’t heard since I was a child and that I barely recognized as my own.

This is my life. 💕