Oceana

 

They never understood, when they “put her into care,” that she already had all she needed: a trundle, a trunk, a life-vest, as many friends as any needed. Sure, she’d fallen overboard, but only in stormy weather, which meant all hands on deck to sound the “Lassie Overboard Alarm” and save her.

For years she pined. For the salt air. The open space. The freedom. Even for the callouses that Papa said were part of a sailor.

Now grown, and anchored by children of her own, the sea remained away.

But she could bring it home.

Create her Oceana.

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt © Jennifer Pendergast

 

23 thoughts on “Oceana

    • Hi Linda! Yes, I love it that you ‘got’ the pun … because, yes, there is more than one way to interpret it, and perhaps she found her balance, anchored as she was and with the carefree memories of the sea untarnished by an adult’s reality.

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    • Ah, Keith, I did not even think of THAT, but yes … perhaps the fall – and the certitude of trust in rescue (even in a storm) – had her feel even more connected to the sea. That said, I do think she’s found some measure of peace, anchored as she is, and many of us cannot really ask for more…. 🙂 Thanks for the comment!

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    • Thank you! Yes, I didn’t feel her as bitter, only nostalgic, and perhaps a bit pining, but not unhappy. I would like to think that she understands – as an adult – what she might not have understood as a child. And that she is sailing life’s seas in her own way, and it is good enough.

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