Love letters from the sea

 As the sun rises and the ship moves forward, I feel the ache of missing you on a cold winter day. I picture you wrapped in a blanket, gazing out the window, longing for the warmth of our shared daydreams.

I man the rail as salt spray wakes me. A pod of dolphins plays nearby. I close my eyes and see you brush your hair, wearing one of my sweaters, and pausing to breathe in my scent.

Life at sea is a lonely place where the sirens of the mermaids call out, beckoning you to Neptune's kingdom, a place where the giant turtles and spotted whales protect this underwater castle and its king.

You're suddenly awakened by the ship's bell announcing breakfast in the galley, and, briefly, you think of her having her breakfast of tea and biscuits at a table meant for two; a stack of letters remains sealed on my side of that table.

I'll be gone for 18 months, and I promised I'd write every day, and I did. Over 500 letters I penned and mailed, arriving at their destination, I called home and you. I close my eyes again, watching as you open one letter, reading it over and over, written with salty tears, and read with the same as her teardrops fell upon my own.

Life on a ship with secret destinations and delayed mail services sometimes backed up for weeks, even months, but eventually made it home to her, fifty or more on any given day. She marked each letter with a number from 1 to 500, using the postmarks to make sure she read them in order, then neatly piled them on the table for two, where she would open number 1 and read it over and over again, then place it in a box to be shared when you steamed back home on a cold winter's day.

I returned to port and was granted a two-week leave before heading back out to sea. I spotted her in the crowd and dropped my seabag on the deck, running to meet her halfway as our bodies collided in a warm embrace, our tears flowing like those of one more mermaid splashing me goodbye until the next time I ventured out to sea.

We never finished reading the rest of the letters that spoke of my love for her, the memories we've shared, and the deepest emotions we shared with the flesh. Now I leave again on a springtime day when flowers bloom, and robins sing. When one last time waking up next to each other, a stack of love letters from the sea on both sides of the table meant for two.

Mike 2026