The announcement comes over the public speaker piped into our room, the pleasant bell chiming to alert us of coming news.

We are skipping our port today due to high winds.

Last night the winds were 40 knots, and even on the world’s second largest ship, we felt the movement. It rocked me to sleep, and I awoke well rested. My best sleep is always on board a cruise ship.

I put on my robe and wait for room service. Within minutes, I am on my balcony with a plate of fresh fruit, and a cup of hot coffee.

As I settle in my chair and put my feet on the ottoman, I watch the horizon versus the rail of my balcony.

The enormous ship is bobbing, the horizon coming nearer to the rail, then falling away. Our speed is near stationary.

I am Internet free as always on my cruises, away from the temptation to watch the screen on purpose.

I want to be present.

I’ve got the paperback my mom gave me, and I begin to read.

I am too distracted by the ocean, though.

The waves are topped with frothy white caps, and the sound is mesmerizing.

In the distance, the sun has spotlighted a section of the Atlantic, and each wave tip sparkles, even at a distance.

Directly below me, in the wake of this giant vessel, the surface looks like navy blue leather, flattened and creased.

A low ceiling of grey clouds is scattered above, with a pale blue sky above it. The low clouds are moving quickly out of view, pulling in the next strand of wispy strands behind them. For a few minutes, the sun has an opening, and reflects its brilliants on every surface of the water beside me.

My feet begin to warm as the sun rays reach my balcony, and my contentment warms.

I could sit in the balcony all day, enclosed and private, with just me and the Atlantic surrounding me.