The faintest scent of sea salt had been lost to the smoke the billowed from the bonfire her father had set up. Mother carefully stoked the fire, keeping herself close to the flames to stay warm. I remember watching the clouds cover up the moon, only for it's sliver light to pierce it's way through again. The bitter cold sea let out gentle whispers as waves pressed themselves along the edge of the shore. I wanted to step out into it, but knew father would scold me if I tried.
"Could I just go back onto the ship to grab my favorite blanket?" I asked, curling up beside him with my best beggar's eyes.
"No, Mani." He said, quite simply, and continued to smoke from his long pipe.
I remember crossing my arms with a huff before mother added on.
"You know bringing it in the tent will only get it dirty. Don't ruin your favorite things, dear." She didn't even look up from the fire when she spoke; She simply reached over, beginning to prepare a few potatoes to be cooked on a skewer.
The first nights in port were always the most irritating. Father was stingy with his finances and wouldn't pay for us to stay in a nearby Inn. He said we'd be better off waiting until we find something more permanent for the season. Sometimes this would mean having our own cabin on the outskirts of a village, sometimes within a loft in the village. I preferred the cabins and homes; I hated sharing my space with other people. Especially those that weren't fond of children, like myself at the time.
So for the first several nights, we'd tent out. Father said we couldn't sleep on the boat because we'd have a harder time shaking off land-sickness if we did. I think he just liked having an excuse to set up that tent mother begged him not to buy. I think she appreciated it more than I did.
On the note of land-sickness, however, I had it all the time. I missed being on the sea, letting the waves rock me to sleep, catching fresh fish for our meals every day... I wonder when that changed? Now I can hardly imagine myself being back on a boat. I never did learn to sail, nor did I ever really consider saving up for a ship of my own. Somehow, I always found myself wanting a shop within a little town, by the sea. Getting the best of both worlds had always seemed ideal to me.
"Hey, Father..." I remember asking him, that very night, "Do you think I could have a shop in the middle of the sea?"
I remember him letting out a laugh. I don't remember what his response was to that, but oh how I remember his laugh, and the warm feeling it left me with that chilly evening by the sea.
"Could I just go back onto the ship to grab my favorite blanket?" I asked, curling up beside him with my best beggar's eyes.
"No, Mani." He said, quite simply, and continued to smoke from his long pipe.
I remember crossing my arms with a huff before mother added on.
"You know bringing it in the tent will only get it dirty. Don't ruin your favorite things, dear." She didn't even look up from the fire when she spoke; She simply reached over, beginning to prepare a few potatoes to be cooked on a skewer.
The first nights in port were always the most irritating. Father was stingy with his finances and wouldn't pay for us to stay in a nearby Inn. He said we'd be better off waiting until we find something more permanent for the season. Sometimes this would mean having our own cabin on the outskirts of a village, sometimes within a loft in the village. I preferred the cabins and homes; I hated sharing my space with other people. Especially those that weren't fond of children, like myself at the time.
So for the first several nights, we'd tent out. Father said we couldn't sleep on the boat because we'd have a harder time shaking off land-sickness if we did. I think he just liked having an excuse to set up that tent mother begged him not to buy. I think she appreciated it more than I did.
On the note of land-sickness, however, I had it all the time. I missed being on the sea, letting the waves rock me to sleep, catching fresh fish for our meals every day... I wonder when that changed? Now I can hardly imagine myself being back on a boat. I never did learn to sail, nor did I ever really consider saving up for a ship of my own. Somehow, I always found myself wanting a shop within a little town, by the sea. Getting the best of both worlds had always seemed ideal to me.
"Hey, Father..." I remember asking him, that very night, "Do you think I could have a shop in the middle of the sea?"
I remember him letting out a laugh. I don't remember what his response was to that, but oh how I remember his laugh, and the warm feeling it left me with that chilly evening by the sea.
