One of my favorite books in the whole wide world is called "The Wanderer" by Sharon Creech. It's an adventure story written for young readers, but I think it holds some of the most beautiful truths about life and love and loss and hope that I've ever read. I've read it about twenty times and never once was I able to make it through without crying. It's just that good.
The main character in the story is named Sophie and she is a thirteen year old girl who has three sides: the logical side, the day-dreamer side, and the stubborn mule side. All her life she felt connected to the sea and dreamt of one day sailing across the ocean on a boat all by herself. Although she did not go alone, she made this dream a reality and set off with two cousins and three uncles across the Atlantic on a patched-up old boat named The Wanderer. The story continues with all sorts of adventures and plot twists, but eventually they make it across the ocean to England.
The first night Sophie's boat family reached land, they stayed at an inn where they ate as much food as they could stuff into their bodies and talked to as many people as would listen. Each member of the crew was spitting out stories of their journey as fast as they could, as if they needed to tell people about it or it wouldn't be real. As they told their stories, the strangers listened with wide-eyes and in turn told their own tales of the sea.
Sophie describes how peculiar she felt to be on land after having spent weeks on a boat that was rocking and crashing all over because of the ruthless waves. She was dumbfounded from all the wasted space and the useless items people collected in their homes. She couldn't believe how clean and neat everything looked, especially because she hadn't had a proper shower for over a month and living quarters aboard The Wanderer were anything but neat. She had to get used to the phenomenon of eating slowly and leisurely instead of holding on to her plate at all times and shoveling it down before a wave came and pushed the food off.
The thing I liked most about Sophie's account of reaching land was her description of sea legs. Although she walked upon a surface that was stable, she felt as though she would tip over at any moment. She was so used to the rocking and sudden lurches of the boat that she still felt like she was rocking on land. The sea continued to have an influence over her even though she had been removed from it. She was stuck with her sea legs until she could adjust to the stability and normalcy of land again.
I've been stuck with sea legs for the past few weeks.
Everything about Australia still has an influence on me. Not a day goes by when I don't dream of the wide open skies or the beautiful mix of green and blue in the ocean. And just like Sophie and her boat family, I feel like I need to talk about Australia to anyone who will listen. It's odd though, when people ask me "How was Australia?" I usually don't want to tell them. I usually get upset because I can't answer that question in five seconds like they are expecting me to, and honestly I've talked to very few people who care enough to listen to all the stories I have stored up in my heart. Instead, I tend to talk about Australia when I'm not invited to. In the middle of a normal conversation about religion or politics or nature, or anything for that matter, I give my two cents about how Australia relates to these topics and try to persuade everyone that it is so much better than America. Regardless the topic, I can't shut up about Australia.
I think I do this in order to convince myself that I actually went there.
Most days I wonder if it was all a dream. Sometimes I even forget that I was there at all. This scares me a whole lot. I'm afraid I'll loose my sea legs and become so well adjusted to American soil that I'll no longer walk under the influence of the sea. I don't ever want to forget the blessing of Australia and all the gifts it gave to me. But I also don't want to get stuck dwelling on the past and never reaching into the future. So I'll make sure that doesn't happen.
I think I'll always have sea legs to a certain extent. Australia is now part of me. Even if it only feels like a dreamy, less-than-real part of me most days. I long to go back. My soul wants to lay down in the rich red earth and take a nice, long nap. It wants to curl up under the warmth of the sun and be forever happy and safe.
But that would be too easy.
The main character in the story is named Sophie and she is a thirteen year old girl who has three sides: the logical side, the day-dreamer side, and the stubborn mule side. All her life she felt connected to the sea and dreamt of one day sailing across the ocean on a boat all by herself. Although she did not go alone, she made this dream a reality and set off with two cousins and three uncles across the Atlantic on a patched-up old boat named The Wanderer. The story continues with all sorts of adventures and plot twists, but eventually they make it across the ocean to England.
The first night Sophie's boat family reached land, they stayed at an inn where they ate as much food as they could stuff into their bodies and talked to as many people as would listen. Each member of the crew was spitting out stories of their journey as fast as they could, as if they needed to tell people about it or it wouldn't be real. As they told their stories, the strangers listened with wide-eyes and in turn told their own tales of the sea.
Sophie describes how peculiar she felt to be on land after having spent weeks on a boat that was rocking and crashing all over because of the ruthless waves. She was dumbfounded from all the wasted space and the useless items people collected in their homes. She couldn't believe how clean and neat everything looked, especially because she hadn't had a proper shower for over a month and living quarters aboard The Wanderer were anything but neat. She had to get used to the phenomenon of eating slowly and leisurely instead of holding on to her plate at all times and shoveling it down before a wave came and pushed the food off.
The thing I liked most about Sophie's account of reaching land was her description of sea legs. Although she walked upon a surface that was stable, she felt as though she would tip over at any moment. She was so used to the rocking and sudden lurches of the boat that she still felt like she was rocking on land. The sea continued to have an influence over her even though she had been removed from it. She was stuck with her sea legs until she could adjust to the stability and normalcy of land again.
I've been stuck with sea legs for the past few weeks.
Everything about Australia still has an influence on me. Not a day goes by when I don't dream of the wide open skies or the beautiful mix of green and blue in the ocean. And just like Sophie and her boat family, I feel like I need to talk about Australia to anyone who will listen. It's odd though, when people ask me "How was Australia?" I usually don't want to tell them. I usually get upset because I can't answer that question in five seconds like they are expecting me to, and honestly I've talked to very few people who care enough to listen to all the stories I have stored up in my heart. Instead, I tend to talk about Australia when I'm not invited to. In the middle of a normal conversation about religion or politics or nature, or anything for that matter, I give my two cents about how Australia relates to these topics and try to persuade everyone that it is so much better than America. Regardless the topic, I can't shut up about Australia.
I think I do this in order to convince myself that I actually went there.
Most days I wonder if it was all a dream. Sometimes I even forget that I was there at all. This scares me a whole lot. I'm afraid I'll loose my sea legs and become so well adjusted to American soil that I'll no longer walk under the influence of the sea. I don't ever want to forget the blessing of Australia and all the gifts it gave to me. But I also don't want to get stuck dwelling on the past and never reaching into the future. So I'll make sure that doesn't happen.
I think I'll always have sea legs to a certain extent. Australia is now part of me. Even if it only feels like a dreamy, less-than-real part of me most days. I long to go back. My soul wants to lay down in the rich red earth and take a nice, long nap. It wants to curl up under the warmth of the sun and be forever happy and safe.
But that would be too easy.
"A ship is safe in harbor, but that's not what ships are for."
-William G.T. Shedd
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