We are at sea. For now, everything is calm, the water like blue rippled glass and I'm going to enjoy it for as long as I possibly can. I know that within the next few days, when we head north and start cutting across the current, I'm most likely going to be in the same boat I was at this time last year. Until that happens, I'm going to enjoy the sail for as long as possible.
I'm going to head out to the bow and watch the sun set as we sail towards it. I'm going to stand at the stern and stare at the wake, churning and aqua, the only thing to break to monotony of open ocean as I look behind us. I'm going to lie on Deck Eight with a million stars spinning above me.
And somewhere in the midst of all of that, I'm going to realize that I've left Africa again. It took me by surprise this time. One minute I was on the dock, throwing out my trash in the blinding heat, and the next we were pulling away from our berth, crew lining the rails and waving their goodbyes. I feel vaguely unsettled, like I should feel more. Leaving Liberia was like ripping a piece of my heart out, but this farewell to Benin has been much less drastic, and I'm not sure why.
But I've got the next nine days or so to ponder while we sail up to Tenerife, so I'll make the most of my time. (If I'm not seasick, that is.)
(The photo of Phil and I was taken by Murray, and it's a re-creation of one we took last year on the first day of sailing. I was headed home, getting ready to introduce Phil to my family, and he was waiting to get my Dad's blessing before proposing to me. Today is our seven month wedding anniversary. What a difference a year makes...)