Storm At Sea

     Frantically I stuff my head through the neckhole of the life jacket.  I hook my elbow over the hand railing and fumble for the buckles.  They slip through my rain soaked fingers and the ship lurches again.  Angry streaks of lightning tear across the sky and illuminate the pitching deck.  This is not the first storm I have endured since I signed onboard seven months ago, but it is the worst.  Then the thunder follows and I involuntarily shut my eyes against the audial onslaught.  And I am back in the dark again.  I can feel the sea rushing over my feet as it travels across the deck, we are taking on water.  I move forward holding on to the handrail, feeling blindly in the dark for the lifeboat.  The life jacket blows horizontally in the wind and I snatch at it before it flies away.  White arcs tear across the sky and show me the lifeboat swinging violently in the storm.  Smashing against the ship's cabin, and then back against the handrail.  The thunder comes quicker than I expected and I jump.  The ship moves underneath me while I am airborne and I fall further to the deck than I expect.  I stumble in panic and almost lose my life jacket.  Raindrops run down the curve of my face as I struggle to gain my feet.  I stagger upright as the deck teeters and only my elbow hooked through the railing keeps me from falling into the sea.  In the dark I move forward again towards the life boat.  I have a deathgrip on the handrail.  The lightning stikes close and blinds me.  The thunder is instantaneous and deafens my ears.  Lurching forward with my elbow hooked over the handrail I struggle to snap the life jacket buckles.  A lightning strike far overhead shows me I am close to where the life boat has bent the handrailing.  The thunder rumbles across the storm tossed sea and I move forward.  Sliding my elbow along the handrail I concentrate on the life jacket buckles again, I have to snap them close or I will lose it in the storm.  I slide my elbow along and the railing disappears.  I pinwheel my arms where the railing should be and the ship rocks violently.  I am thrown high into the storm and rain and I have the clearest thought.  "At least I'm not on that ship any more".  For six months I have struggled through storm after storm and it has wore me down.  The uncertainity of the open ocean during a storm is a better option.  I plunge into the sea and the cold takes my breath away.  I am alone in the vast dark ocean.  I sink a bit further into the dark and I am tempted to just let go and allow the crushing weight of the sea to take all my worries away.  The life jacket is caught underneath my chin and it reminds me of hope.  I cling to it and kick for the surface.  It seems to take forever.  I don't think I will make it.  I punch through the surface and exhale a fountain of salt water into the dark air.  I feel it splatter back onto my face and the sea tastes just like tears on my tongue.  Gasping for breath I try again to fasten the buckles on my life jacket.  Lightning shows me that I am at the bottom of a huge trough of water.  The wave crashes over me before I hear the thunder.  The life jacket pops me back upright and I cling to it for dear life.  In a split second I get one of the buckles to clasp and I am relieved at the small victory.  During a lightning flash I race down the face of a storm wave as I embrace my life jacket.   All night long the sea tries to make me give up and quit.  I endure.  In the morning I am bobbing alone on the surface of the ocean.  The ship is nowhere in sight.  It's ok.  I made it through another night.  I can do it again.  I find the morning sun, turn towards home, and begin swimming...