The other day I walked down to the ocean, stepped past the rocky shore and the water hid my sandals as the waves lapped playfully around me. I walked knee deep out to my island, where I’ve never been except at low tide, and had the ocean racing around and around the edges, flinging drops up playfully to tickle, to caress. I haven’t felt that alive in a long time.
And as I sat there, with all of the world behind me and only the ocean in view, she began to sing, just for me.
I realized that the old tales of Sirens being evil, luring men to their deaths on the rocks was wrong – that the sailors gave themselves to the water gladly, with full hearts, just to feel wrapped in that sound.