Nothing like being a sailor pulling into port. The anticipation of liberty and time spent ashore. Firm ground under your feet, the smell of food, the sound of music from the shops and pubs along the water front. Pulling in, may be one of the best parts of life, for those who spend their time upon the sea.
It is still the same for the old fisherman, coming in at the end of a beautiful day on God's waters. Today we were blessed and the box is full of fish, and we pull into port where the stares and stripes still fly proudly. My home port. I am so full of blessings, and I can only think to share the words of Robert Louis Stevenson.
Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie:
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he long'd to be;
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.
Old Captain sends.
I miss being at sea, the strong bonds and of course an ice cold bear and some hot chow while pulling liberty with good friends.
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