Open water has a language all its own. I first learned it as a babe in a playpen beside crashing
waves that pounded our seawall, but my vocabulary has expanded with each passing year. Now, as a senior with fading hearing, I even
recognize its unspoken voice.
The message is clear: I am home. Mysteriously and yet convincingly, it also reminds me of another Home waiting for me when I leave this one.
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