The Unexpected Tears at the Stern: Why Leaving Port Changed Everything

I'll be honest—I almost didn't go to the stern deck that afternoon. My cabin was perfectly comfortable, the Mediterranean sun was pouring through the balcony doors, and I had a piña colada waiting for me at the pool deck. But something made me grab my sunglasses and wander back there instead. Maybe it was the announcement about departure in fifteen minutes. Maybe it was just curiosity. Either way, I'm so glad I did. I'd been cruising on MSC ships before, but this was my first time on the MSC Seashore, and I was still getting my bearings. We'd pulled into Civitavecchia that morning, and I'd spent the last several hours exploring the cobblestone streets of Rome—or at least the parts of Rome you can see in five hours when you're power-walking like a woman on a mission. My feet hurt, my shoulders were sunburned despite my best efforts, and I was ready to settle into ship life for the next few days. The stern deck was almost empty when I got there, which surprised me. You'd think more people would want to watch us leave. There were maybe six other people scattered around—an older couple holding hands, a woman about my age in a wide-brimmed hat, a couple of families with kids who were r…