The year I turned 38, my feet didn’t touch dry land. To be specific, I spent the year adrift: my toes may have dragged the sand in shallow waters, I may have belly-rested in the slurry of the intertidal zone, but I spent those months exploring the space beneath the surface. There will come a place in this story where I will need you to suspend your disbelief. Perhaps more than one: In the beginning, when the current took me, you will wonder what kept me from drowning, what kept... more