My name is Sean and I come from a family of fishermen. For generations, the men in my family have gone out to sea every day to make a living. It’s a hard and demanding job that only the strongest people can endure. There’s nothing like a storm on the high seas to let you know if you’re cut out for it. My father, his father and his father's father did it because they had it in their blood.
I’m different — I prefer the smell of earth to the smell of sea salt, and I like to feel the ground under my feet when I go to work in the fields at dawn. I prefer the smell of petrichor to that of wet nets, and I like to rest in the shade of the trees, listening to the buzzing of the bees, the murmuring of the river, and watching how my crops grow day by day.
I want to put down roots here, where I feel I belong. The sea is something else — it’s immense and unpredictable and that's why it has no owner.
*Pictures by Freepick and Pixabay
Muy bueno, Coral
Gracias, Druida.
You write very well.
Beautiful! Thank you for teaching me the word "petrichor" ... it is a beautiful word that I have never encountered before.
Thank you! "Petrichor" is one of those words I never get to use in my writing. So it felt like a "now or never" moment. : D