Only two weeks left

3 April 2014

Update by Claire:
“With so much to do, you would think nobody would have time to worry about what will happen when this voyage is over. But with two weeks left, I find myself contemplating the end. I know, weird, right? Because as anyone on this trip can tell you, nobody lives in the moment more than me. Ahem.
I have heard several opinions about what coming home will be like. One person said I might get depressed, because nobody will understand what the experience was like. I can see this happening, since as a sensitive, brooding creative type, I’m prone to depression to begin with; I once went sailing for ten days and was depressed for a month after; I could never pinpoint why. I hope this doesn’t happen this time; I have a book deadline to meet and I can’t afford to spend six months drowning my sorrows in Miller Lite.
Someone else told me he came back from another voyage and remembers standing in a drugstore, thinking how weird it was to actually buy a product, pay for it and take it home. Another person said she doesn’t care what it will be like to come back, as long as she can pass off her laundry to her mother again. This I can’t relate to, since my parents pass off their laundry to me (just kiddin’, Mom and Dad).
I remind myself to enjoy every single moment, even the ones that suck, like when the nice, clean untrafficked ladies’ bathroom outside my cabin breaks down and I have to use the one on the other side of the ship that all the guys use anyway, because one thing is certain: there will be moments in the time to come when I desperately wish I was back here. Then I try to find some sun while we have enough of it, desperate to preserve my perfect golden bronze at least long enough to show it off when I get home. When it goes, I will really, really miss it. But of course, the best souvenirs are the ones you don’t keep.”