The Call of the Sea

I saw the sea once.

Just once.

The Mediterranean Sea.

I was seventeen.

The sky was very dark, clouded over.

The sea was celadon and slate blue,

and the horizon was gray on green.

I had my first taste then of the wanderlust of pirates and navy men and explorers.

I was enthralled by the sea, and caught up in the thought of how many memories it seemed to carry--how many lives seemed to press down upon me. It was as if hundreds of years of history were carried in with the waves. And truly they were. For man has lived near and upon the sea for ages.

And for ages it has called to them, like it was calling to me. It was as though the sea recognized me, knew my name, knew that I could never resist the call of history. And in that moment the call of the sea found me and resounded in my heart, wherein it still sings softly to this day, several years later.

...It started to rain then.

As I left I took one last glance at the sea.

And since that day I have never seen it again.

But the weight of it still presses on me sometimes.

And I remember how many lives I lived when I looked out upon those waves.

And I taste wanderlust rising within me.

And I hear the call of the sea, beckoning.

And I long to see the horizon once more.

Just once more.