Crossing an Ocean

Can you imagine what it is to cross an ocean?

For weeks, you see nothing but the horizon, perfect and empty.
You live in the grip of fear.
Fear of storm, fear of sickness on board, fear of the immensity.
So you must drive that fear down deep into your belly.
Study your charts, watch your compass,
pray for a fair wind
and hope,
pure,
naked,
fragile
hope.

At first, it's no more than a haze on the horizon.
So you watch.
You watch.
Then it's a smudge,
a shadow on the far water.
For a day.
For another day.
The stain slowly spreads along the horizon taking form,
until on the third day, you let yourself believe.
You dare to whisper the word.
"Land"