itting on the deck of a ferry, I'm gazing towards the horizon, my head resting on my hand. In the warm heat of the
midday hours, the eyes wander lazily over the blue sea: sometimes I keep them wide open, sometimes I realize they are closed and dreaming.
The Kornati archipelago is drifting by like a curtain, revealing the dark deepness of a pristine sea which I can feel whispering with his ebb and flow. A world is revealed: an intimate rising of feelings, a sweet melancholy of memories.
A sea of velvet glare breathes like a pulsing organ, restless and wild like a living being. The wavelets, so dark and so far away, seem to hide majestic and fearsome marine creatures, and beyond those hidden creatures, the deep blue shines as a silver mirror.
Closer to the ship, I can see waves pushed on by sailing boats, chasing one another like children playing. Two seagulls fly close, almost touching, before disappearing beyond a cloud.
The sea continues pumping and pulsing, waves over waves, a frilly Spanish dress over a mysterious, hidden depth. Sailing towards the shore of the islands, a sandy seabed appears with blots of pale blue and the deep black of posidonia weeds, inviting me for a dive.
My love is ancient, my love is new. Memories of my childhood holiday come afloat and the past gains back its colours. I can recall the smell of gasoline and the fresh air in the morning after a night on a ferry, the long trips on dusty roads, the compelling sensation of adventure and freedom.
My family and I were used to spending our summer vacations in Greece: we travelled through the peninsula, sailed to the islands, found in that poor and warm land the best part of our time together.
We first visited it thirty years ago because of love. My father had a true passion for classicism and archaeology and visiting Greece was his dream since he dealt with and ancient Greek history and language at school. It was that old love of his, that soon became a love of ours.
I learned a way of life that was simple and sincere: in touch with nature, open-hearted, eager to learn and to enjoy beauty in all its colors and shapes. My parents taught me to cherish and crave that life, whose echo reverberates each time I find myself at the sea.
I can remember my father teaching me to header dive from a cliff or to recognize myrth bushes from their leaves, I can still hear him talking about Alexander the Great and Hippocrates. I can also remember my mother resting on a beach with her inevitable straw hat, playing with Greek children or dancing sirtaki as it was the most natural thing in the world. She was used to saying: "Riempiti gli occhi!", always reminding me to fill my eyes with wonder, to enjoy the view.
Our days were long and lively: back then, and in the following years, the sea became a friend of mine. Every day the sea surprised me: I saw bright seastars, I admired the sparkle of wet pebbles, I enjoyed warm sulphurous waters and cold currents, I climbed on rugged cliffs with bare feet, I got stung by both jellyfishes and sea urchins, I discovered sea caves and sea bottoms of quartz sand.
The sea in the morning was invigorating and refreshing, the sea in the evening relaxing and meditative. I was used to swimming through the golden line of the sun at the end of the day, observing the glittering shades of the water and the sea becoming dark. In the night the Aegean was concealed and fascinating: framed by tamarisks and covered by a roof of stars.
Life was simple, but its simplicity was the richest of gifts. "No jewel is more precious, than a salted droplet on a tanned skin", my father would say. A simple droplet on our skin was a mystery revealed: one single diamond, a promise of eternal love. Feeling at one with nature and earth, we found in ourselves a pristine heart.
Now the years have gone by. As I prepare to leave the ferry and visit the green Croatian islands, old memories of mine emerge from the past. My eyes are feasting on that amazing view.
My love is new. It is a passion never soothed, a sincere and thankful feeling: every time I contemplate the sea, I'm in harmony. Staring at the horizon or cradled by the waves, I'm nothing more than a seagull, a shell, a fish. The sea is a womb, a familiar and reassuring place. The sun bleaches my hair, the water strengthens my skin and a perfume of maritime pines inebriates my nostrils. The life I've always loved shows itself in intimate sensations. A sea of memories is calling me back, a sea of reality is preparing to show its wonders. Like a trustworthy lover, I won't restrain.
I am alone on the dock, but my soul is in a good company. On this blinding day of summer, I can still dive in. Once again I am able to taste the salty water on my lips, to ruffle my hair in a wave, to find reassurance and peace at the sound of the sea. A genuine feeling resurfaces with untamed strength, time and again, renewed.
Author Bio:
I am a freeelancer writer and I live in Padova, Italy. I am a windsurfer, a scuba diver, an avid reader and a rather imaginative and creative woman. My stories were published by the Italian edition of Christophorus, by Gonomad.com and by a local newspaper.
Follow my blog at:
https://shapeofclouds.wordpress.com/
May 2017 - Stories from the Sea
SEVENSEAS - 91
Time and again, renewed
the sea, my parents and I
By Marianna Morè
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