I imagine that somewhere out there in the Sparkling Sea, there are people making chit-chat on Islands. I think of this as small talk, the kind of exchange done out of politeness mainly but also to get some quick information. I guess if it gets more developed than that, they have moved into full blown conversation and their coffee is cooling off and the morning is melting away into the day. I have always been a fan of Islands and often remind myself when traveling to them that “if it is not the Ocean, then it Is Land.” An Island, is land. Yes, I live high, high up in the Mountains of Western North Carolina and have done so for many years but part of my Heart is tangled up in the Water. I have dreamed of living on Islands or by the Sea Shore, or at least on a Lake but so far, I just have a tiny little creek running through my backyard, the Moore Creek, is my only water feature. Yet, I still dream of the Sea, the Magic of the Ocean, the sound of the tide against Cliffs, the taste of a mouthful of saltwater, the bite of the wind when the storm is raging, that unmistakable feeling of being on a boat. I think I am a Seafarer stuck inside a Landlubber. I want to hear the wind whistling through the rigging as we make a full head of steam, see the bow rip through the water as the Dolphins dance on either side, celebrating the Human Triumph in a way we could never appreciate them, those Aquatic Cousins, long gone from the Land. I would feel at home in a Steamer Chair with a cup of Hot Cocoa, watching the Sun go by overhead and all around me nothing but Ocean from Horizon to Horizon. Now mind you, I would not like to be set adrift, to float with no hope of rescue, no I would not like that, unless I landed on a tropical Island, either unpopulated or inhabited by some very friendly Natives. As I sit in my chair on dry land and type this and see only Mountains and Forests and Sky, I appreciate the rustic, inland situation but I do long for the Sea and the journey to get there is already begun.