It’s 6:23am, the obstinate deep honking of
our anchor drag alarm has awoken us abruptly. John slides over me, bleary eyed,
and trips up the stairs to check out the situation. And though the wind has
been howling all night, we are not dragging. The anchor is holding well, buried
deep in the sand no doubt. Just a 6am false alarm to remind us we are not in
Kansas. Or anywhere in a secure land home for that matter. We are on a boat.
And I’m up now…
Up in the galley/salon, my feeble efforts
at Christmas decorations have been thwarted in the night. The beaded white
anchor ornament that serves as our ‘tree’ which I hung with care on our mast
has fallen, along with the little Christmassy animals… adhesives are no match
for salty sea air. Ah well. I open the hatch for some breeze and the silver and
white ‘Christmas flowers’ I had stuffed strategically into my bowl of seashells
are blown out and around the floor. This is a boat. And it just doesn’t feel
like December anyway.
The water all around us turquoise blue.
However, it’s colder than I remember. We’ve
never been in the Bahamas in November or December before. We have been welcomed
back by disturbed skies and intermittent squalls. And chilly waters.
Three weeks ago we arrived back on the boat
after a three month road trip. She was tucked into a safe hurricane hole but
she was all closed up and the heat and humidity took their toll. As I cursed
and scrubbed stubborn black mold from the ceilings, I was worried. Would the
weather hold up for my boy’s visit? Would the water be warm enough? Would it
all be perfect for him and his girlfriend?
And as usual I had to learn a life lesson
the only way possible. By discovering for myself that it’s not the water
temperature or consistency of the sand on the beach that makes a great family
reunion/holiday. It’s the people. It’s the overwhelming, heart crushing love a
mama feels for her baby. Her ‘all-growed-up’ focused, talented, gorgeous,
charming, mature, well adjusted boy. The boy she sees no more than once a year
if she’s lucky.
And it’s the bittersweet satisfaction of
witnessing that he has made it out there on his own and has found love. True,
honest, beautiful young love.
We had some amazing days together.
Barbecues on the beach with the other boats in the bay. Walks on the beach,
collecting shells, marveling at the power of the ocean. They swam with sharks,
fed the sting rays, got more than their fair share of mosquito and no-see-um
bites. Bahamas wildlife couldn’t get enough of them. Neither could I. And yet
10 days was over nearly before it began. Another dinghy ride with luggage in
tow. The reality of the cruising lifestyle. Family is far away and the visits
are too short.
Seems like five minutes ago I was a 27 year
old idealist, headed from suburbia to West Africa; a single mom with her three year
old boy headed into the unknown. Hoping the world would stretch out and embrace
them both. Off to learn and live and love him as best she could. 
Time is a gift. Time is a gift and it’s
slipping away.
Swim in the chilly water. Hug your boy.
Call your mom. Don’t sweat the small stuff. It’s just stuff. Let the ocean
carry you. Let life be the adventure it’s meant to be.
Miss people. Then smile for having known
them. Kiss the sky.
Happy December.
