Magical Sea makes me dream
I want to sit by the water and play a harp or a violin, like the mythical creatures of long lost fairy tales, I want to dance on the summer mists of the Sea like a fairy and I want my hair to smell like seaweed as of a mermaid mane. I once danced the nights away, now I mostly sleep them away, wishing I were rocked on a boat, forever and ever.
Growing up my family spent weeks on the water, in a sailing boat, it was small but carried the four of us. I learned to navigate, to be on the open sea with no land and only the sun, glaring in its own Swedish summer heat. I loved those summers, we slept at islands with names and no names, they were small and they were large and we had wind in the sails, from the south and the north.
There were nights when the storms hit us, and the anchors came loose, and when the boat just wouldn’t stop throwing my child body around in the tiny room under noose that I called mine. I remember those summers as the fondest memories of my past, they are trapped in a capsule of time, that I can never relive, because that was then and this is now.
And I am not sure if it makes me happy or sad…