I tried writing this in the past tense, but with each word, I reverted to the present. I guess to write it I need to relive it. Please understand.

I take my morning coffee out to the bow this morning and Kirby and Jake accompany me there. It is warmer out today. A light fog has just blown in, but it is in the process of blowing out already. I sit in my favorite spot on the boat, the seat in front of the pilothouse. It’s comfortable there and the previous owners left us cushions that make the seat really feel luxurious. As the sun reappears I begin to feel the warmth that I loved so much in Florida. That feeling that the sun is melting your bones, perfect and beautiful. There is a light breeze blowing. It’s not a cold one this morning, just the kind of breeze that contrasts that warm sun with just the right touch. I notice the foghorns sounding in the distance. I guess the fog has not lifted farther out at sea. I love that mysterious sound of the horns. They make you think of captains of old returning home to their loved ones.

I decide to listen for other sounds, so I close my eyes and hear. I hear cars and trucks on the road on shore, and the back up beeps of the lifts working in the boat yard. I hear a dog bark a long way away. I hear birds chirping and an occasional boat motor. I notice that the sea gulls are unusually quiet this morning and I wonder why. An airplane flies overhead. I try to peak and look at it, but I can’t find it in the sky. Someone is whistling as they work on their boat. Others are chatting to their friends. I hear a cart being wheeled down the dock to deliver supplies to a boat. And I hear Jake panting and pacing.

The dogs switch roles on the bow. Kirby, our normally inquisitive and active one, curls up next to me and lets me run my fingers repeatedly through his soft, fine hair. He relishes the attention. Jake wants to go! Whenever he has boated with us in the past he has loved to go fast and has barked wildly when we slowed down or when someone passed us. My suspicion of his discontent is confirmed when a boat passes by and he is even more excited. His panting is distracting me, so I put him inside with John who is working on a project. I know he will lie down and go to sleep inside and I will be able to concentrate on my surroundings.

I start to look around. I see those lovely old homes that line the shore. The tide has risen and from my vantage point I can see over the breakwater and watch the boats as they head out to sea. It is very calm. The nearby house and the breakwater reflect perfectly on the water creating a mirror image so precise that it would be difficult in a picture to tell which is up and which is down. A lone gull flies past making a call but he is not answered.

John brings me a second cup of coffee and I smell the rich aroma mixed with the unmistakable scent of the sea. I breathe deeper unintentionally and then I realize that I am doing so, so I continue to take deep, satisfying breaths of coffee and sea air. I sip my black coffee and wonder how long it has been since I have been so in tune with all of my senses at the same time. The sun continues to warm me and I am able to remove my fleece and be in a short sleeve shirt for the first time since I left Florida in March. My arms feel wonderful in the sun. I think that I should be writing all of this down right at this moment, but then I realize how much I need to stay where I am and how being plugged in would ruin the spell, so I vow to try to remember every little thing that is happening and that I am touching, seeing, smelling, tasting and hearing right now. I lean back, put my feet up and concentrate, marveling that I have time in my life now to experience so much.

Finally I look at my watch. Almost three hours have passed. Three hours where I did so much by doing so little. This much I know. We have made the right decision about what to do with our life.