Today is Donovan’s seventieth birthday. He was pretty clever for an old man, he thought.
He stood alone on the deck, leaning on the rail, looking at the sea. He was infused with joy, and raised his eyes to the sky to give thanks. To give thanks for having the guts to take this cruise. Having the guts to book, pack and go without apology.
He lit a cigarette. There was no one around to cough and complain and whine.
He enjoyed his smoke today as much as he did when he was sixteen years old, sneaking up to the roof.
Donovan recalled how he would look at the night sky, being blessedly alone.
Yes, being alone was blessed.