SUNDAY, APRIL 3
The last day at sea passes in a blur, feels like we’re just waiting to go home, but we’re trying to drink in every last ounce of vacation left. That night, I sit out on our balcony, looking out and seeing blackness, or rather very dark blue. In those months looking forward to this trip I had imagined that there would be more stars, but only three lonely lights blink at me. It’s as if someone turned out the lights! I thought. Someone? Who? God? Did he, too, feel the need to put his children down for a nap and take a break? But no, he was probably off tending Asia who was very much awake and probably crying.
Earlier, we had found a cinema tucked away behind a pub and watched Pixar’s The Good Dinosaur. Parents brought their toddlers who babbled and giggled and cried. The whole trip I had been attuned to the sounds of little families aboard this floating community. Afterwards, we went to the café. Again. I thought of Gone with the Wind, like any good Georgian might, and amended in my head: “I’ll never be hungry again!” We walked the deck one last time, sprayed by the wind and sea, coating us in a layer of salt. We stumbled down the hall to our stateroom as if drunk, the ship constantly swaying.
To be continued…