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We headed north on the Gulf of Mexico for what might have been our last day on the water. It was a beautiful day with the winds especially favorable, as if they were blowing us home. We spent the first couple of hours reminiscing about our trip. We reflected on how unsure we were of ourselves as yachtsmen in the beginning, uncertain of boating etiquette and marina life. How much we’d learned about our own boat, about the different places where we’d docked, and the interesting people we’d met. There are so many things we’ve discovered along this trip. Many of them about ourselves. We know that in spite of uncertainty, when you just dive in, you really do figure out how to swim. There was no reason for choosing the 19th of December for a departure date, and as it drew near, my own resistance grew. Leaving for a month seemed like an eternity. I couldn’t imagine being away from our office, from our home, from Yankeetown, from our daily life. But Richard insisted. And there was no denying him. Richard has taught me to let go more than I’ve ever done. Kind of like free-falling for love, for excitement, into a world of surprises. I realize now that our way of existing is eccentric: letting each day unfold as it may, staying flexible in the current of the unexpected. Living without a schedule stretches one’s tolerance. There is nothing routine about our life, or our love, yet it is our love of life that compels us to take the unchartered path. The sun was shining all around us, so you can understand our surprise when we were suddenly on the edge of a fog bank. Before we knew what was happening we were completely surrounded by the misty fog. We found ourselves in a cocoon filled with a grey glow of light. We could see nothing beyond the circle of haze that engulfed us. It was scary, and quiet, and exhilarating, and beautiful. We were prudent and donned our life preservers. Without radar on the boat, there’s no way to know what lies beyond sight. With the help of our compass, we returned toward the direction from which we had come. Traveling 20 miles south, we entered the intracoastal waterways just south of Sarasota to avoid the fog. It found us again as we pulled into Marina Jacks, our rest stop for the night. Our final day was one of the more treacherous, the wind was not in our favor. The strong current caused us to smack both pilings as we backed the boat into our home port in Clearwater Beach. Securing the lines of the Suki Sweet II brought pride and sadness. Pride that we had completed our trip successfully. Sadness that our journey was successfully completed. With a kiss and a hug, we walked arm in arm along the dock away from the Suki Sweet II. We know we’ll venture out again soon. We loved every moment. We learned that when you stand on the bow of the boat with your arms in the air, the wind in your face, and your eyes open, you get that this is how life is. It comes at you with such power and force that it’s hard to keep your balance, you want to reach for the rails to hold on. And yet, as scary as it is, you trust in your ability to stand strong in it’s wake. Because when you open your arms to embrace the wind, the power, you’re really living. Our friend Tom said to us tonight, some people live until they die, and others die without ever living. I’ve learned that the time to live is now, and now, and now... Thank you for being with us on this journey of adventure, discovery, and love. We hope by sharing it with us, that you, too, have discovered the possibility of adventure that lies ahead for you. Signing off from the Suki Sweet II
With love,
Leslie & Richard
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