BlueSol Tribune

I feel like my life didn't start until I went to sea. Haze gray and my life got underway. The problem with that is that I was twenty-seven when I joined the Navy and I turned thirty in the Pacific Ocean. My life before the sea was disconnected and half filled with hasty episodes of foggy trepidations and vibrations of hollow memories.

Where was I before the Navy? I found writing, music, running, coffee... love. But, it wasn't until I found the sea that I felt natural in my own shell. I was a Shellback before I felt truly safe in the world, like I could face the enemies that haunted my landmares of my lifetime prior to the start of my sea stories.

After I drank to the foam, I savored coffee instead of using it to stay awake. I started running efficiently instead of running away from things. I found my voice when before I was mute. I let in the music that surrounded me, when before I was a tone-deaf musician. The problem with finding yourself at sea, is that eventually, you have to come ashore. And once ashore, the fog starts to roll back in. I hear the waves in my dreams and I cannot escape the siren's call. But the fog is thick and the rocks are sharp and the way back to the sea is fraught with peril.