Half an hour ago I was on my feet, flittering between rooms to close the hatches against the downpour above. Warm water trickled down my face and arms. Now I lie dry and warm and cozy in our little cabin below.
It’s a Thursday morning. I know this because the Cruiser’s Net broadcast it on the VHF system a while ago. They also reminded me that it’s cooking class day at True Blue Bay in the afternoon. Nothing else is pressing.
Months ago on any given Thursday morning, I’d have been sitting at my desk, tackling hundreds of e-mails, fighting the incessant fires of accounting and service delivery problems, and planning to face the bumper to bumper, hot honking black fumes traffic of Accra.
Now, as the pitter patter of rain on the window hatch above reminds me of all that uncaptured water, I’m thinking we’ll need to measure for our makeshift rain catcher and head back to the hardware store at some point for a tarp.
Wondering how much bailing we’ll have to do if the dinghy is full of rain. Hoping with relative confidence, that the sun will come out with a force later to dry our towels and outdoor cushions.
All my thoughts converge and hover above me, but for now Shiloh lulls me with the gentle ocean waves and the sound of rain. It might be 9am by now. It might be later. Coffee can wait, the plans for the day can wait. For now my eyes are closing, JW lies beside me, his steady breath a familiar comfort. And I am savouring the moment.