I miss all of it: the endlessly clear nights full of stars; the magical places, the next one always over the horizon; the welcoming smiles that seemed to ask, “What took you so long?” I even miss the moments of pure terror when foaming, gurgling walls of water would rear their terrible heads and come crashing down onto the deck. I’ve never felt more alive.
We came home to a place that feels more foreign than any we visited. I felt it even as we motored between Port Canaveral’s jetties and tied up at our familiar dock. There were the same charter boat skippers, the same dockhands, the same weekend fishermen bitching and moaning about the same things. Nothing had changed.