Seven days and seven nights aboard the Norwegian Dawn (gotta love the names of these cruise-liners, yes?).
A day in Tortola, a day in Samana, a day in St. Thomas, a day in the Bahamas.
Free meals and buffets of excruciatingly abundant generosity.
A new bathing suit. A hat with a wide brim. All-natural sunscreen. And two sunburns.
At night, sleeping with the balcony door open, the sound of the water moving against the ship’s hull.
And sometimes, anytime, day or night, the Very Real Sensation that one is At Sea: your foot finds the floor unexpectedly soon or unexpectedly late; or sitting quietly listening to music, you feel the gentle give and sway of the unsolid surface, like being rocked to sleep. It makes you close your eyes….
Now it is Saturday again, and we sit in the Fort Lauderdale airport. With Everyone Else In America Who Just Enjoyed A Week-Long Spring Vacation.
An hour in line, moving forward three feet at a time, waiting to check our bags. A line so long it went Outside the Airport.
Another thirty minutes in line, waiting to go through security.
A waiting area crowded with strangers, all waiting, waiting, waiting.
A seat against the wall with our first wireless connection in a week, and we’re catching up with the world.
And constantly, throughout, the real but imagined sensation of being rocked, the rise and fall of a now-distant (but oh, how familiar) watery world that was my home for a week.
So glad to be going home. I just hope I can find my land-legs.
