Blissfully she sat at the edge of the bow letting the sun’s rays penetrate her skin. She reveled in the warmth moving her head from side to side making sure it hit every inch. Her well tanned skin and the Atlantic sun have agreed on terms since they have come in contact for a few years now. Although sometimes the sun will break contract letting the sting of summer settle just at the top of her round cheeks and accenting the crest of her nose. Stinging cheeks and a tourist-like nose didn’t put a damper to her gentle rocking as the waves contacted the porcelain like sides of the boat. They were always trying their hardest to reach the hand-painted words that read, “The Salt Life Writer.”
Reminiscing on the day she proudly painted those words, she couldn’t help but crack a vibrant smile. So much success beamed from the simplicity of those four words. She began to believe that her sea legs have become a permanent asset to her body. She embraced the past years as many seconds, minutes, hours, and days seemed to fly by right in front of her ocean blue eyes while residing on this vessel. Memories of competitive fishing among friends, many island drinks sloshed here and there on well used deck, and even the more professional use of the office space that accompanied a hammock for a desk-chair and a typewriter for the equipment, ran through her mind causing a whirlwind of simplistic happiness to overcome her body.
An investment some people called it, she referred to it as a way of life. Well-needed naps, cleansing, healing moments that soothed the soul, moments filled with laughter and love among friends and family, and the bringing together of man and sea were embedded into the core of this boat. This boat acted as if its genetic makeup wouldn’t allow for anything else but blissful simplicity and some salty tears to be shed. Blessed was a word she used often when boasting about her floating vessel. Life on a boat was something to be cherished and hopefully never forgotten.