She Sailed Away

Work has been busy. Home has been crazy. Vacation begins in two days.

Clothes are strewn about the room. On the bed the empty suitcase lies wide open; so much potential to pack.

It is her first trip of this kind. Sure, she has taken other vacations, but none of this sort. Fortunately she is creative and can pull together 3 or 4 outfits from each article of clothing. Her packing methods bewilder her. Only in packing is she so decisive and knows what to pack.

Her eyes widen with the sight of the boat. It is one of the biggest boats she has ever seen. The ramp looks like mere toothpicks to the ship. As she nears it, her heart races. It must be sturdy if they are letting all these people on it. Right?

On deck, the wind blows through her hair. The sky is clear blue as is the ocean under it. The horizon glistens with adventure. Up on the deck she watches the masses board. They move so systematically. They all have the same look of hope and ambition on their faces. The breeze carries their spirits high in the air.

Her luggage is stowed and the cabin is set. It's not home but it will do for the week ahead. She sprawls out on her bed and daydreams her coming days.

The captain announces the ship is about to leave port. Let her trip begin! She steps out on the deck again to see the shoreline disappear. Against the rail on the top balcony she feels like she is floating. The water is distant below. The land grows smaller and smaller as the waves crash by. The sun beats down on her shoulders and she can begin to feel the burn. The refreshing kiss of sea breeze makes up for the peeling shoulders she will have later.

It is three days before they are scheduled to embark the first island. In the mean time, her days are filled with plans to wine, dine, dance, and sunbathe. She makes new friends and tries new things. It had been six years since she surfed. Today she is in line to do it again. She is fascinated that you can surf on the boat on the ocean. Who knew?

The first two days fly by. The ship is so wonderful and has so much to do. Lost in her amazement and lust she loses track of herself. And she loves it! Work, home, land have all left her mind. She is free to live and enjoy. She tucks herself into bed on the second night with a smile.

Bubbly Beverage

Today is here. She awakes. Her mouth is dry. After a few swallows she throws the blankets to the side. Legs swing over the side of the bed and she rises. Automatic pilot brings her to the kitchen. She keeps her feet on the rug; it is too early to feel the cool tile beneath.

Tupperware fills the fridge with leftovers. On the door the wine, milk, juice, and soda sit. The fridge has one of those columns for the cans. It is one of the best parts of the whole place. Near the bottom of the column is the last can. It is waiting for her.

POP!

Air sizzles out of the can. The bend of the tab cuts through the perforation. She pushes it back down; otherwise it'd get in the way of her nose. A rush of orange flavor invades her nose. She can almost taste the soda on her tongue.

She isn't sure when, but she developed a habit of smelling things before they enter her mouth. It makes the food or drink taste better, more invigorating.

With the can in her right hand, she takes a sip. The cool, fragrant liquid reaches her lips. Her tongue is wet with anticipation. The liquid envelops it. But it doesn't feel wet.

Bubbles surround the tongue. Orange bubbles. They pop and fizzle with flavor, but share little taste. Millions of the bubbles seem to fill her mouth. She swallows them down the pipe with full exertion.

Her mouth remains dry from the tease of the can. Hopeful for a better outcome, she takes another mouthful. The fact remains – the soda is too fresh; the bubbles are too present.

She places the soda back in the fridge, next to the leftovers from last night.

Thirst subsides and hours pass. The day is filled with activity and nonsense. At the end of the day she returns home.

To comfort her in front of the movie, she needs to quench her palate. Aftertaste of dinner sits on her tongue. Steak teriyaki, garlic mashed potatoes, and green beans. She is too full for dessert, but something sweet, wet, and light would be perfect.

The movie stills and she walks to the fridge again. A foot steps onto the cool tile. A hand reaches for the door and the other grabs the can. The can is cold. Liquid inside smells the same syrupy orange goodness she smelt earlier.

On the couch again she sips her soda. The bubbles are mostly gone. Orange liquid goes down nice and smooth. The syrup carries the flavor and liquid over her tongue and through her body. It satisfies her to her childhood days and compliments the old school Christmas movie.

She recalls the day of popcorn, Grampy's kitchen table, and playing cards. On our overnights there, he'd let his granddaughters drink orange soda, and have popcorn and ice cream. It was such a treat! She'd put the popcorn in her soda. Weird now, but delicious then! Sometimes they'd also have orange soda floats with vanilla ice cream.

The last drop trickles down the can. She shakes the can to let it dribble out. It is the cherry on the sundae. Her craving is fulfilled and her palate is satisfied.

 

How does the first sip from a fresh can of soda make you feel?