Sea Legs on  Land... I just came up with this. I've been wanting to write a novel entitled 'Sea Legs', based on how I managed to get through my divorce. But nothing  ever came of it. And so it goes (thank you, Kurt Vonnegut)

It seems like I've always been trying for my sea legs, reaching for what others have. For what seems elusive.  Plus there is a romantic aspect to this. Full sails, open water, sun sparkling on the deck. Me- wobbly as I reach for ropes that dangle just within my reach.  Eventually I will get it. Will get there.

But then I know that my struggle towards a good pair of sea legs has gotten me this far- writing a blog, going  back to school to become a teacher, releasing a book sometime in the immediate future. That my stumbling and cursings  and utter failings as a parent are fodder for life, tales to warn or inspire my children,  bent grasses in a field that tell me and those behind me 'This is the way to go...' Rattlesnakes and groundhog holes be damned... Falling and tumbling and scratched knees have made me a path finder, not a path follower.

Searching for Sea Legs.... maybe the purpose is in the looking and not the finding.