July 15, 2013

To Fire Island

 I am a child of the ocean. Arms outstretched in the sun, I let my fingers dangle over the railing. The ferry glides along the bay, and the spray from the surf below catches on my skin and clings in fine salty droplets, the wind slowly guiding them up my arm in tiny streams. I let the crash of water against the rudder wash away my thoughts, and I sit there, quiet and peaceful, as the waves cleanse me of my worries. For now, my mind is quiet, soaking in the bay waters, pure at last. The sun is warm and everywhere, and it wraps around me like an old friend, hugging me, soothing me, comforting me. Rest, it says. Be at peace. We will keep you safe. I am a child of the ocean, and this ferry is my vessel, guiding me everywhere and nowhere. I know this journey well, every bump of the wave, every seagull's cry, every gust of salt air. Take me, save me, nourish me, replenish me. My destination awaits, but for now we have this, these precious moments on water, floating, racing, waiting, being. Let me stay here for just one moment more. I am a child of the ocean.

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