When I was twelve, I went to sea with my father. My mother had protested out of worry saying that I was not yet ready for the trials of life at sea, but once she had been persuaded to allow me to go, I went with excitement behind my eyes and the song of the gulls ringing in my ears.
I remember the very first time I set foot on the deck of my father's small sailing ship. I instantly fell in love with it. The clear blue waves, the crisp air, and the reflections in the polished wood of the ship's deck.I stood still, transfixed, as I watched my father pull the ropes and set the sails. It seemed only moments later that we were gliding over a sea of glass, cutting through the water in the most elegant and majestic way.
I walked to the railing and looked out at the gulls twirling and spinning on the winds above and felt the magic - the magic the inspired their dance. The music was the waves and the dancers were the gulls and the playful winds. In that moment the sea and it's music became woven into the fabric of my soul. This was my dance; the Dance of the Sea.