A VIEW FROM BELOW

They lifted me out of the water this week. Not my favorite feeling, but necessary—like a trip to the dentist, if the dentist wore overalls and carried a socket wrench.

Not one you’d see from the dock—this one lies beneath the waves, brushed carefully across my hull. Antifouling, they call it. It keeps the sea from clinging too tightly: barnacles, algae, little things that love to hitch a ride.

It doesn’t make me faster, not exactly. But that matters. Because even if my guests only see sunsets and wine glasses on deck, I know the sea tests me from every angle. And now? I’m protected again, all the way down.