When time is right
We took the launch service out to our boat yesterday. Our promenade to the harbor was blessed with sunshine, warm winds and birds chatter all around the green tunnel of forest pathway, but by the time we arrived to the boat, dark menacing clouds covered our view of the sun and the rain quickly followed. There are worse places to find oneself when it's raining. There is something romantic about the way you pull the companionway hatch to close above your head and you immediately begin inspecting the latest repair of faulty portholes to see if they still leak or not. Bingo! No leaks (there) any longer, an opportunity to kick back and relax resurfaced.
A wave of nostalgia and a mild form of sadness flooded over me as I laid down in the familiar patchy red colored couch and I couldn't help but feeling we've abandoned Duende. Our boat that had brought us here and who had protected and carried us through hard times, and enhanced the good days with memories worthy a hundred novels. It isn't a case of an abandonment naturally, as we will set sail Southwards again as soon as boat and we are ready to go. But the situation does carry an odd feeling, the fact that the boat isn't any longer our everyday home as it's been since spring 2010, it's weird. Time flies. Things change. We change and priorities change, but nowhere and at no time does the need and hunger to feel free dissipate.
As much as other aspects of life must be prioritized for a period of time, we know within our hearts that we will return to the sea when time is right. "Wasn't it pretty good in the tropics after all", he asked me, with a gentle deliberate look in his eyes that almost brought tears to mine as I knew how hard most of our time in the Caribbean had been, on especially him, during the never-ending refit and boat projects that we had initiated and never came to an end with. "We didn't fully take the opportunity to enjoy the way it was supposed to be enjoyed" he continued, me nodding as an answer. Knowing too well he was right and if we were to do it all over again, we would have done it so much differently.
No reason to regret, as we've learnt many lessons. But one thing we agreed on there while torrential downpour hammered down our hatches was that we no matter what, would only ever leave with our boat in the right cruising mode again. Fit and ready to go, with refits and refurbishments behind us. We'd only fill the boat with tools needed for unexpected repairs and not for constructing and building a whole new vessel. We've lived it the hard way and surprisingly survived that with all that it means. It is exhilarating now knowing that we can start it all over again, and that next time we'd have the chance to do it the right way.