~The sailors say Brandy, you’re a fine girl
What a good wife you would be
But my life, my lover, my lady
Is the sea…~
She is a fickle mistress, the sea. Wherever I go, whomever I love, and whoever loves me, they share me… “my life, my lover, my lady” as the old song goes…
There are days when I detest her, there are days when I look out the window and see nothing but iron-grey-blue stretching from horizon to horizon and it all seems so vast and I feel so infinitesimally small and unimportant…
And then there are the other days…which, despite how it may sometimes seem when the work gets hard and the hours get long….far outnumber the bad. The days where I wake up wondering where she’s going to take me…what she’s going to show me…because there’s always something. There’s always somewhere I’m supposed to be, something else left to see, friends I haven’t met yet…
And it’s on days like those, when I wake up actually feeling refreshed and recovered, and I walk into the office and look out the window and standing black against the blaring blue of her sparkling waves is the distinct outline one of the most famous Opera Houses in the world…that my heart unclenches somewhat.
She’s a fickle mistress, she carries me far from home and has broken my heart to pieces on more than one occasion…but she has also healed me, helped me, and supported me in ways that are well-nigh impossible to describe…there are times I look in the mirror and I don’t recognise the woman she has made of me…but isn’t that the case with any marriage, good or bad?
A fickle mistress, and oft times cruel, but I am hers and she is mine…
And for now, I have to believe that that is how it’s supposed to be…
Because I could no more be apart from her than I could stop my own breath…