The first shore

I can see it.

Two and a half years at sea. Days that ran into nights, and nights that ran into days. Crores of money gone into it. And something money can’t buy back: years of my life, every ounce of my effort, my whole mind, given to one thing.

And now, the shore.

It isn’t everything I dreamed of. It’s only the first of it. But I wandered so far out there, and learned so much, that what I picked up on the way is an empire of its own. I’ll build that too.

This first shore, though. I see it clearly now.

It’s been lonely. Chillingly lonely. Nobody beside me in the dark, nobody who could see what I was steering toward. Maybe that’s why it means this much. Every mile was mine.

It’s near. It’s big. Bigger than I ever let myself imagine. A few more months.

No one will understand this part, and that’s fine. I don’t need them to. I know it. I found it.

It was worth everything I gave.