Across (Sence of the City)

My father told me on the phone before I left; "You're a different person when you're on the Atlantic on a boat." It's true, and I knew it would be. But I didn't know how true it really was until after we crossed.

My world broadened. My life strengthened. I have gone through something not many people do. I have learned more in the last month then I have in any class.

I made it across. The trip was an experience but the sailing was not so good. There was no wind and we motored through a lot of it. But the simple fact that I saw more of the world made it worthwhile. Spending all your time on land you start to think that's all there is. But the ocean is so much larger, and in it you become smaller. Out there, the closest land is five miles directly down. It's a humbling and frightening experience at first. After a while it become normal, but that idea always sits in the back of your mind.

My watch, from midnight to three, was lonely and dark. I stood solemnly and stoically waiting for something to come on the horizon. Every so often, a container ship would cross our bow. Their green or red running light shining like Christmas, told me which direction they were moving. It was my job to watch them, notice how fast and in what direction they were moving and to move out of any danger.

But now, that is done. We made it across and we met our family and the solitary lifestyle has been replaced with excitement. Out on the ocean, words are expensive and five or ten words are all that is necessary. After such a long it's always nice to have a change.