December 16, 2011

The World is Round—we’ll meet again

 Danielle started the song to welcome the Sabbath. Watching her I marvelled at how she’s grown into such an incredibly thoughtful and empathetic young woman in the past year. Then I looked to Harrison—who is always ready with a question and makes me think about all sorts of things I never expected to ponder. And then to Michael and Barb, who have brought us so much warmth and laughter—and when they said their blessings for Shabbat dinner, I added silent thanks of my own.
The WGDs have genersously shared their Shabbat dinners with various cruising friends all accross the Pacific--this may have been the first they've done with Christmas decorations...

When you cross an ocean with someone; when you plan all the details and cast off within an hour of each other; when you can start sentences with things like, “how awesome was it to cross the equator?”, or “when we did that shark dive in the Tuamotus…”, or "will there ever be a view to match the one from high up on Nuku Hiva", or “Dude! We’re in Australia!”; that next sentence, the one that starts and ends with, “goodbye” is almost unbearable.

Can I brag about our wonderful buddy boat? The WGD family is awesome. I’ve never met a more animated, more eager to explore, more fun combination of people. And we got to sail across an ocean with them.

You meet a lot of people cruising. Some kind of drift through your life—sharing an anchorage, a dinner, a few experiences. While others change you—they imprint themselves indelibly on your heart. And after a while, after enough inside jokes, sublime experiences, and tearful or terrifying moments, it becomes impossible to imagine continuing on without each other.

But for the past couple of weeks, I’ve been waking up each day, and WGD hasn’t been anchored anywhere near us. And while we’ve explored Brisbane a bit and shared a final Shabbat dinner, they were here as land-based visitors. Our trip together has truly ended. And each day that passes is a day closer to the one where they fly home.

 Last year—when we were steeped in plans, when we we’re comparing provisioning lists, going over charts and guide books, and cajoling each other through cold feet, I had no idea we’d grow to love them so much.
But we have.
And we’ll miss them.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Oh--we'll miss reading about your exploits together.