I tap my quarter against the metal box like a gambling junkie seeking instant self gratification from a one armed bandit. My last one drops with a plink and an almost endless supply of water erupts from the shower head. Hot water scalds my naked shivering body. Soapy sudsy bubbles swirl around my feet cascading down the drain taking days, weeks and months of salt with them.
No man can fully appreciate the luxury of a hot shower the way a sailor fresh in from weeks at sea can. My mind drifts off to the first really big storm I experienced solo. I was so afraid no amount of water could quench my dry mouth. I wanted off that boat so badly I would have done anything but the sea had different plans for me. You can’t watch the miles tick off or stare at a motionless clock hoping the time will miraculously wind forward until the seas are calm again. All you can do is tuck in and enjoy what I can only describe as beautiful and frightening at the same time.
Shoreside life moves in the same mysterious ways. the weather patterns are different but reintegration is frightening. I still can’t find my shoes, I’m land sick, time moves to quickly here, everybody is in such a hurry. I need to find a slip for Chloe a bit of work for me and a new boat for Emily. Like that fateful day nearly 30 years ago this storm to will pass, i could try and fight it but I prefer down wind sailing.
Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream.