The Ocean

Can you believe it? Two days in a row! I haven’t done this since the summer. How pathetic! Anyways, I really like how this one came out. I’m hoping that the more I do this, the easier it becomes and the less likely I’ll have to rely on prompts. I’m already looking forward to what I’m going to write about tomorrow! So enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Also, in case you’re wondering, I’m almost done with the last Ferrante novel. A little over 100 pages to go. It’s incredibly sad that the series is finally coming to an end. I haven’t enjoyed reading anything as much as I enjoyed reading this series. If you haven’t hopped on the Ferrante bandwagon yet, I suggest you do. I’m at a point right now where I can’t imagine reading anything else afterwards.

The Ocean

I’ve been lost out in the ocean for a little over a month, content. I often wonder if I’m truly lost. Lost implies something has gone missing, when the opposite appears to be true. It appears that I’ve been lost all my life, until now.

I don’t write on my death bed—raft, I should say. Only little bursts of rain here and there, the big storms off in the distance, battering uncharted islands with nothing but gulls and other seabirds on the beaches, all only visiting. Soon, they’ll rise up using the ocean’s powerful gusts of wind, willfully giving themselves up to a power greater than anything they could have imagined.

I love the different kinds of blues the ocean offers. In the shallows, before sunset when the light is yellow, the water is almost green. During the day, when the sun is at its highest in the sky, and the water is undisturbed, the water and sky become one, it’s truest color. It’s impossible to tell whether I’m floating or flying. The horizon dissolves before my eyes. At night, under the white light of the moon and stars, the water is hard to see, but it’s starry reflection guides me through the endless night.

The next morning, I knew it would come at some point, prayed it would, the sun rose slowly and I couldn’t help but smile. My line is tight and bouncing on the edge of the raft. Breakfast. There’s still lots of freshwater from the last rain shower. My books haven’t been ruined by the water yet, either. In my notebook, I attempt to draw the schools of fish darting back and forth underneath the raft. Larger fish underneath them are driving them up to the surface. The seabirds, who timed this moment perfectly, are out and diving deep into the water for an easy meal. The large school of fish knows well what’s happening, but they keep fighting for survival.

Inspiration can be found in every inch of the ocean, and I’m in the middle of it. What a blessing it is! If I’m lost, I hope I’m never found. I hope to stay in the ocean for as long as I live. Each day I learn something new looking into the waters. New perspectives, fresh surprises, all unique, and all natural, waiting for someone to find the beauty in them. Every day I’m out here, I tell myself how lucky I am that I’m the one. And I know that as long as I continue to see the beauty in everything, only good things will come. Like the gulls, I’m simply here to enjoy the ride.

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