Home was a ship that was at the bottom of the sea, where my mother's bones lay sleeping.

Night fell over the sea, painting the Marigold black except for the white sails stretched against the dark, clouded sky. The stars and moon hid, giving no sign of where the sea ended and the sky began, and I liked the feeling. Like we were floating in the air. The west wind was warm, finding its way onto the ship before it ran back to the wake on the water behind us.

I stood against the wind, watching the movement of the water around the coral islands. It pushed up the shelf gently, and if it was as calm beneath the surface as it was above, I could do the dive in just minutes

It was the spot I'd sat every morning, waiting for my father's ship to return, even though he told me it wasn't coming back... it took me two years to believe him.

My father had always told me that seabirds were the souls of lost traders. To turn them away or not give them a place to land or nest was bad luck.

It caught the wind above me as I untied the lines and pulled. The night sky was black and empty, stars cast across it in swirling sprays. There was no moon, leaving the deck of the ship dark below. I leaned into the mast, letting my weight fall into the ropes, and tipped my head back, feeling the wind rush around me.