Sailing Into Something New

It wasn’t a charter, but it felt like a journey that mattered.

The crew from my old base in Split stepped on board with quiet hands and familiar eyes. They knew every sound I make—every little creak that means nothing, every hum that might mean something. They didn’t speak much. Just worked, gently, like they were saying goodbye without saying it.

And then, there were the new ones—fresh faces from Zadar. Excited, curious, respectful. One of them called me “elegant,” and I pretended not to blush. They ran their palms along my rails like they were learning a new language.

We left Split in the late morning. Eight hours of open sea ahead. I knew the route—I've done pieces of it before—but this felt different. My last passage as someone’s fleet boat. My first as something closer to… myself.

The wind was light. The sea calm. And as the sun began to fall behind the islands, we reached Zadar.

It was just past 9 p.m. when my lines were tied. Someone brought out a bottle of something sweet. A small cheer. Nothing grand. But they clinked glasses on my deck and said, “Dobro došla.” Welcome home.

And just like that, I was.