Sunday, 3:00 p.m. As the sound of the ship drifting away from the harbor filled the air, I sat down in one of those white chairs, gazing out at the blue horizon, and simply began to read in solitude. I had read books in many places, but this was my first time reading on a boat鈥攁 boat taking me home after a wild adventure spent entirely alone, because, curiously enough, it was also the first time I had traveled alone.
The Stories of Eva Luna, written by Isabel Allende, were my only company鈥攍ighthearted and sometimes bittersweet stories that soothed my anxiety in that chair, because, like any return from a journey, there is a return to your life, a return to normality that is both exciting and a reminder that the magical days have passed.
As I read, it was impossible not to gaze at the vastness of the sea, so blue that it blended into the sky. At times, my thoughts and reflections would wander, and at other moments I would simply lose myself in the movement of the tide鈥攕o hypnotic and constant that my mind, usually racing and overstimulated by thoughts, fell into a peaceful silence and serenity.
That Sunday, I gave the sea everything that hurt and weighed me down, and I thanked the book for being a refuge and a travel companion; I could say it became my favorite place to read, and I also passed the test of not getting seasick. That Sunday, the sky gave me a beautiful gift: a brilliant, yellow sunset. There was no romantically pink and blue sky; on the contrary, it was a sun that gradually hid itself without losing its color, a sky that I was certain would return the next day brighter than ever.
Hi, if you've made it this far, thanks for reading. I hope you had a great weekend.馃挋
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