Everything is going up and down

When I was growing up, we spent our summers on a small, 27 ft sailboat. It was a fabulous fit for both my adventuresome spirit and homebody soul with a new place every few days, and a pattern that was comfortable and predictable. It fit, and it always amazed me how my equilibrium would adapt to either being on land, or sea to the point where the first couple of days ashore would have me feeling the earth move in a slow undulation as I sat and stared at the chalkboard or page.

So it was a happy memory (and no surprise) this morning when I began writing a scene where there was wind, and water, and a small boat, that I found myself moving up and down with the slow gentle breathing of the ocean.

Yep, the memory of water runs deep.