rainstorms

People are going to think I am a smoker. I spend too much time on the port (where the smokers sit).

My cabin is on the third deck where there are no windows, about 20 feet away from the hospital. I love the commute. I use to leave at 5:30 am to be on time for a 7:00 am shift. Now I leave at 6:55 if I want to get to work early.

My needs are contained on the ship. My home. My food. My star bucks. My library. My food store. My job. There is no need to go outdoors. It would be very easy to go weeks without ever breathing fresh air or feeling the sun’s warmth wrap your skin. I have made a conscious decision that I need to breath fresh air for at least ½ hour every day. It’s necessary for my soul’s survival. The port is my outcove.

Last night it was exceptionally beautiful outside. It was the kind of night you go for long drives to nowhere with your windows down and music up. I can’t drive in Liberia. So instead of a long drive to nowhere I went for a long sit to nowhere. I sat on the end of the dock with my legs dangling over the dirty Liberian water and the sea breeze turning my hair into a large afro. My ipod singing the sounds of a melancholy play list. It was glorious.

Last week I did the same thing but in the rain. I put on my raincoat and grabbed my pink umbrella and sat surrounded by the Liberian rainstorm. There was something very soothing about the stormy sea.

As I looked over the Monrovia skyline I couldn’t help but be amazed. How many girls from Bucks County are able to enjoy the serenity of an African rainstorm? Not many I am sure.