Leavetaking

The Norwegian Gem, harbored in the neighboring port, began its slow exit 5 minutes before our scheduled departure. From inside the ship, the uncanny feeling that we were moving and the Gem stood still was preserved until I rushed to an open-sky deck and found the Big Apple skyline for reference. The Gem pulled away from her moorings almost imperceptibly, and all I could think about was how gently the free ocean caressed her now, and would she move and would we move similarly as we escaped the coast. (And whether my body would reject the rocking cradle of the sea, having become so accustomed to the firm foundation of Mother Earth.)

As I heard the warning farewell of the Gem's three blasts, I was led to the forward deck to watch for our impending leavetaking. I rested against the outer hull facing the forward bow, and the only hint that we were soon to be off was a lifelike tremor that reverberated from the ship's unknown depths. I took a panoramic shot and waited for our slow withdrawal from the docks to turn out into the New York Bay.

In silent slowness, we turned and turned. So mesmerizing was the quiet procession of the nearby skyscrapers across the bow that I was lost in absorption when the first blast rang.

To the tune of the second and third blasts - and in glee at the dismay of my fellow passengers at the resounding clamor of the ship's announcement - I made my way to an even higher deck to watch as we left the bustling madness of New York behind.