The distance between Dublin and Boston is approximately 3000 miles. You told me this when you were staring south west with the kind of madness I have only seen in sailor’s eyes when they lived in lighthouses too small for their giant ship dreams. It should have worried me, that glint in your eyes. I just dismissed it as one of your navigational tantrums.
When we went to the pub later that evening, you told me I should have the fish and chips, but the way you like it, with more vinegar and no tartar sauce. I said that made it too salty, and you told me that was how real sailors ate their fish. My reactions always were slow to your behavior. I believe the expression ‘at sea’ was applied more often than not when you spoke.
I never thought that the walks you mentioned on the beach when we were children had any more to the idea than the romance of it all. So when you told me you belonged to the sea, I thought you were talking about your soul.
It never truly meant anything to me until I saw the letter with my name where your boat had been at the dock. I wish you knew that I swam after your lost trail long after you had gone, until she, like the jealous lover she was, forced me to lose my breath somewhere in the freezing depths of the water.
I have never quite regained it.
The distance between Dublin and Boston is exactly 2991.42 miles. My now shallow lungs contain 300,000 million capillaries. If I laid each one out, end to end, they would stretch 1500 miles.
I would do it, if I knew that you would lay yours out too...and met me halfway.