They sit on the shoreline boulders wrapped in their jackets and faces turned toward the wind, absorbed with the look of the sea in the sunlight. Does the expanse enchant them, with its cold hues that glow and beckon one's imagination to adventures in landforms far away and the unknown probabilities that something so vast and deep as the sea can conjure up? Or do they think more practically of Estonia on the other side of the Gulf as they see the Viking Line ships leaving port, and entertain thoughts of walking the winding cobblestone streets of Tallinn's Old Town on a breezy summer day and buying cheap liqueur to bring back home? I don't know. Perhaps they are only aware of the chilly wind on their cheeks and their hair whipping annoyingly around their faces as their bottoms freeze on the cold stones and their cell phones suddenly call them back to the reality they live in.
Now that the ice sea has melted and given way to liquid highways for a couple of preening swans, I am just waiting for the boats to fill the empty docks in the same way that the people have suddenly populated the walkways and boulders by the sea. I'm as eager as they are to feel the sun and the wind and the pull of the sea's horizon as I watch the coming of Spring and anticipate travels to faraway lands.
