I Must Go Down to the Seas Again

... I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.


From Sea Fever by John Masefield


Saturday, Bryan left for St. Thomas to take a boat from there to Trinidad for hurricane season.  In a perfect world, I'd be there with him.  I'd have a job and there'd be weeks before school started, and I could find my way to the water with the man who re-introduced me to my watery nature.  It's crazy, really, given how long I have been landlocked, how strongly the sea calls me, how powerful the draw of ocean is for me.  I find myself throughout the day turned toward the east and the great beyond, filled with a hunger that can only be satisfied one way - sailing far from the sight of land.


This world is lovely, but not perfect.  I'm sitting here in Fort Lauderdale while Bryan is on his way to St. Lucia.  I have sent out 20 plus resumes and have had one interview.  This school district is desperate for Speech Therapists and yet, nothing.  I took a huge leap leaving home, job, who I was and now I think my resolve is being tested.  Do I have the courage to stay the course?  Do I trust that this world wants my happiness as much as I do?    So far, the answer is - sometimes.  


If all goes well, Bryan will be in Trinidad by the 30th of this month, maybe earlier.  Less than two weeks.  The question is what do I do?  I've got a little less than two weeks.  Do I stay here and keep hunting for a job or do I go to Trinidad on the 30th regardless?  The sea calls.  Is it a siren call, or the call of home?  For me, isn't that always the question?  


At last, I know what it feels like to be on the right course.  That's new for me, something I learned on the water.  However, I still don't always know how to silence the voices in my head, all the ones asking me every time we talk if I've gotten a job yet and what am I going to do if I don't find one.  I've always possessed a strong super ego.  I do a fine job of nagging myself toward the expected, the straight and narrow.  What I need is to find onshore, that quiet surety that comes when I'm offshore, far from distractions, just me and the man I love, the wind and the water, a tall ship and a star to steer by.  Will I?  Can I?  Time will tell.  Maybe Masefield knows me better than I know myself.  Maybe 9 to 5 and a steady paycheck and benefits are not for me anymore.  Maybe I was always meant for the vagrant gypsy life.  I certainly have found my laughing fellow-rover.  The only thing I do know, is that Mother Ocean calls me as she calls all her water creatures and I must to the seas again, which perhaps is answer enough.