Ahoy There!

I literally grew up in an airplane: a Cessna single-engine that could plummet in a wind devil like a roller coaster. I’m about to crest the two-million mile mark in my frequent flier account, and have never been airsick. (Let’s hope that trend continues.)

But for the first time, I crossed the North Atlantic by ship. A very big ship. The Queen Mary 2, to be specific.We looped up through Halifax, the home of the founder of Cunard Lines, to celebrate the 60th anniversary of the business. Then we left Nova Scotia and headed into “the big blue wet thing” (if you’re a Muppets fan, you’ll know).

I saw the curve of the globe for the first time. The horizon literally BENDS.

I remembered ancient maps on which far-away places were marked with the words, “there be dragons.” The Titanic, whose resting place we passed a mere two-hundred miles away.

Every day at noon, the Captain announced that we were to move our watches ahead an hour as we crept to Southampton. I ate scones (plural) every afternoon. I waltzed, fox-trotted, and swung around the dance floor in the Queens Room each night, never making it to bed before midnight. (I’ll admit that on two particularly rough nights, I did some sliding and bobbling as well, although like my heroine in Venice, I tried to make it look like a moon walk.)

But most importantly, I marveled at the ocean over which, Genesis tells us, the Spirit of God hovered at creation. From where I stood on my terrace, His presence was easy to believe.

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