Floated to my dreams

I woke up on a boat early this morning, after almost a year.

For a short while, I watched the wooden ceiling where the sunlight reflected by the calm sea water was gently scattered, dancing. There was an absolute silence. Probably there wasn’t anyone on the wet deck yet, and everyone was sleeping after a long night.

I stepped on the cold floor and went out of my cabin on my naked feet. No breeze, no single movement of the sea, flat and bright like a mirror.

I sat on the bow to witness the awakening life on land. How peaceful it was to feel that I could watch without being a part of that life, of that continous run. It felt like I was floating not on water, but on my dreams. So close to them, like a late victory.

I smiled at my vivid portrait looking back to me from the mirror sea. I found her brave, hopeful and gentle. Whatever I liked and tried to preserve about me was explicitly lying beneath the hull and I kneeled under the guardrails, stretched my arm and touched them as if I wanted to collect back as much as I could.

The cool and wet salty water gave more than I wished today.

It felt like a second life has begun.

And just like ages ago, life has begun inside the water; with the water, again.