Side by side, we lay in darkness, as stillness surrounds us.
The roar of distant waves a faint reminder of our link to the ocean.
No night watches tonight, no need to wedge ourselves in or clip ourselves on.
No rush of water against the hull, rendering sleep impossible or rogue waves threatening to throw us from our bunk.
No urgent call to deck just as we finally sink into slumber.
Instead the night is still, we are still, Florence is still.
Many nights on passage have been spent dreaming of this stillness, such promise of a sound nights sleep.
How we cursed the constant motion, how it made our lives so hard, stopping us ‘achieving anything’ with our day.
Tonight the stillness brings no joy. The silence, a screaming reminder of our stationary state.
Tonight no matter how long we sleep, our goal will not be closer when we wake.
Our horizon remains as still as we are.
For as we lay here we realise, our motion at sea was always forward.
No matter how uncomfortable or gut-wrenching, each bob, bounce, slam or roll resulted in us moving ever westward towards our goal.
Together as darkness falls again, we mourn the motion.
We never missed until it was gone.
Our silent dreams, the only vessel able to carry us to distant shores.