After a few days of driving and visiting family, followed by a breakdown on the interstate in Missouri and a new fuel pump, we arrived back in our home state of Colorado Friday evening. We were barely in sight of the mountains when the sun slipped behind the jagged horizon. Even through the bug spattered windshield, the blazing purple peaks were breathtakingly beautiful.
Two days later, I'm like a kid again. Standing, nose pressed against the cold glass, watching the fat spring snowflakes fall through the tree branches, to either melt on the neighbor's roof or settle atop the thin layer that’s growing on their lawn.
The house around me is quiet and cool and familiar. So familiar in fact that the last four months feel like a dream that is circling in my head, and all the while details and pieces are slowly disappearing, leaving just a hint of an adventure in my memory. My nose grows cold against the thin barrier to the outside and I find myself trying so hard to replay the dream in its entirety, attempting to not lose the feel of the salty ocean on my skin, or the smell of grilled lobster, or the warmth of sunshine on my eyelids.
Returning home almost feels like going back and time. In front of the large window, I am reassuring myself that the whole experience actually happened and, although it seems so distant now, it is still very much a part if me. A sliver of fear lingers in my mind, a thought that as the days pass I will lose all I’ve learned over the the last four months and that when we return to the boat my muscles will have forgotten the rhythm they found in raising the sails or the comfort in being rocked to sleep.
I close my eyes. The air in front of my lips is cold and dry, but I let myself pretend for a moment that a wave of humid warmth is washing over me. I picture the teal blue ocean, dolphins playing at the bow of the boat and the sails raised and perfectly trimmed. Beautiful.
I want to take this opportunity to thank you for reading my banter and sharing our adventure with us!
Wow. Reading this post, I felt like I was there with you, pressing my nose against the glass… brought tears to my eyes. Time is such a mystery.
ReplyDeleteAnd, returning from an adventure is ALWAYS more of a culture shock than entering a strange and foreign experience. Why is that? The key is to stay open, I just realized. For the magic and mysteries that are always present. In our busyness of daily "routine" life, we must remember to take time to notice.
And, WELCOME HOME! To your Colorado home and circle of Family. With new friends made and new experiences, your Family has grown. I gotta say, too…I am so proud of you and Adam. So grateful I got to witness your rhythm together of setting the jib, the mainsail (up and down!), anchor in. Anchor out. Husking coconuts. Cleaning fish. Hunting fish (and lobster, etc), for goodness sake! You two are an amazing partnership. I love you both so much!