Sandy Spit
...were coming from both sides finding each other at my legs. With each wave, a splash, then nothing. Much like us, these waves would either shy away or clash with each other upon their first meeting. But then, almost as though they were getting to know each other and realize what was behind the others salty facade, they would settle back into either sea, together. Green umbrellas fly toward the invisible sky. I watch them leave. I watch them venture fearlessly into that spacious territory so far out of reach. I feel the earth shake. “Run for you life,” I shout to the unnoticeable souls vanishing, before my cries are heard, “it’s an earth quake.” Rocking and rocking– I feel my weight shift as silently as a grape from my left side then to my right. The sensation of dizziness erupts through my paralyzed body. The dot of light appearing through my porthole informs me of a sun once again returning to frolic in our cloudless blue sky. I can smell the fresh perked coffee and hear that familiar clank of mugs that have helped rouse me from my dark hot cabin morning after morning. The fan that I owe my whole night to, softly purrs in the corner towards the water side of the small room. It seems to know its time for rest will promptly begin as soon as I put mine behind me. My eyes can’t determine a person from a seagull, but I stumble over to the long wide benches that also have the job of containing our trash. I sit down and to my surprise feel the cool silk of salt water rush over my sleepy feet. My reflexes go to work and before I could even tell what was happening my feet were high in the air. They’re swabbing the deck. You would think I would remember this from other mornings, but my sleep could have erased even the most brilliant idea from the smartest man’s head. The newly polished brass bell, original to the vessel, rings loudly announcing the serving of our morning meal. It is delicious, but before any of us have the chance to hang out and digest the food, another bell. “All hands on deck...