Saturday, March 17, 2012

March blues

The sun rises alone today. Much like the other days of the year. Yesterday some people told me that I was so lucky, to be able to wander off whenever I choose and to sit outside the surf break and come surf when I want. They have a point, I am lucky to be able to do it, but at the same time, they have something that I do not, and something I am increasingly missing. An anchor. I have 6 on board, but that's not what I mean. Something that keeps them here. I am only where I am at the moment, and soon enough, that moment will end. What I really mean is that I'm starting to feel lonely. Starting. Its been building since I was four years old, and sometimes I can ignore it, while other times I am drowning. Everyone is moving back to the summer spawning grounds, the northern nests, and the tourists here all have families or at least lovers. I have Altair, but she doesn't breathe or have heartbeat to listen to in the night, just creaking bones and assorted metal pieces clanking around. The life that comes to me comes from other people, and they are far away.

There are some beautiful things I get to see, but they lack the meaning without getting to share them with someone. I can try to share with you, faithful blog reader, but that isn't quite the same, I am sorry to say. Anyways, I am coming home, not because the money is really running out, but because I lack the enthusiasm to go on alone.

The surf shot is from Kemi Vernon

4 comments:

CaIslandGirl said...

I guess I have to hurry up then if I want to sail with you in Mexico ...

mlloyd said...

As much as you miss those of us in Washington, I can say with almost complete certainty that you don't miss March weather. Especially because it is most definitely not blue, rather a sort of grey drippy color. If you want advice, little brother, let me know; I've always got a word or two to offer. For now I'll trust that your enthusiasm for the life of sailing, surfing and diving will remind you soon enough why you choose to live this chapter of your life so far away.

Anonymous said...

When you get to be an old fart, the memories you are producing right now will be precious.
Get 'em while you can.

Go read some Thoreau. It's bound to cheer you up :)

And remember:
"Wherever you go, you take yourself with you. "
~R

kava crosson-elturan said...

That happened to me in Mexico too. But it only took me a month to turn around. My mode of transport and sleep were not relaxing at all - moto and hammock.