Rough Seas on Day 2

The sea is swelling ever so tall but gently. With the grace of a painter, we lean a little, okay maybe 20 feet, towards starboard, taking potted plants, silverware, wine bottles, and anything not secured along with us. Though before we can reach out to grab the table full of plates coming our way, we suddenly shift portside, as if Bob Ross is behind the canvas, illustrating how a tree blows in gale force winds. It leans from side to side, then forward, back. And before you can curse mother nature for the plate of food now on your lap, the sun shoots tubes of light down through the clouds in a picture so saturated and perfect that it is literally God shouting “Suck it up, kid. You’re sailing across the Pacific and then around the world. Remember?”