A couple of days ago I fell down from the stairs on the boat, the results of this fall was three stitches in my elbow. I would’ve liked the fall to be a lot more dramatic than it was, so that I could look at the scar
fifty years from now and say something cool
like “I fell down from the mast” or “I got attacked by a gigantic shark”. Now I’m stuck with, “I fell down a couple of stairs”. Maybe I should just rephrase it like
“I got stitches In the middle of the Atlantic” and then not give anymore information and be mysterious.
But the most humiliating part of it all was the fact that they, the crew, made a song about how to walk the right way (the safe way) down the stairs and sang it during the watch switch. Since, I’ve been like a guard dog every time I’ve seen someone walk the wrong way down the stairs. So everyone at home can feel safe knowing there won’t be anymore falling down the stairs on my watch.
Now, three days later I’m standing post, watching for a floating refrigerator or a boat in the horizon, thinking about what it will be like when I am home again. Longing for Swedish food, like shrimp toast or Pytt I panna, and of course Ikea meatballs. After ten days of only sea, I start looking forward to coming home again, hugging mom and bugging my brothers when I’m bored. Those things that used to be routine and now are replaced with sailing. At the same time, I’m not ready to leave the bubble we’ve built on the boat. But in two weeks time, I think it’ll feel right to finally leave.