I've known my husband Jon for six years now. We both turn forty this year, so some easy math reveals that we had a lot of time in our lives before we knew each other.
During my first thirty-four years, I discovered a love for reading and writing, worked on some high school theater productions, majored in English, got married (the first time), established my career as a teacher, and had a kiddo.
During Jon's first thirty-four years, he did a few things, too, like rock climbing, ice climbing, white-water kayaking, long distance hiking, road biking, winter camping, and sailing. He even owned a sail boat and told me all about it on our first date.
He wasn't doing most of these things anymore when we met, and it fascinated me that his past held such adventures.
In our first few years together, we did a little hiking and a little camping (we bought a pop-up camper together), and we even did some sailing, but ultimately we sold the boat.
Oh The Boat.
Jon loved the boat. I...liked the boat? I liked that if I took Bonine, I could hang out above and below deck without getting sick. I liked the night we spent moored off the Goslings. I liked that the boat brought me to Jewel Island, the place where Jon and I eventually got married.
But remember, I'm quite naturally faint of heart, and so even though it felt great to get out onto Casco Bay and feel the salt-air on my sun-loving skin, I worried darn near constantly about, oh, everything. My daughter falling overboard. Running into something. Getting stuck in bad weather. Fog. Healing over too far. Having to drive the boat myself if something happened to Jon. Getting sea sick. Pirates.
On many potential sailing days, the boat stayed on its mooring. We said it was because we were busy (we sometimes were) or because the wind was too high (it sometimes was), but I wonder if there was too much anxiety and not enough oomph in my own proverbial sails.
Boat-less now, we talk of a future time (a near future time) when we will once again have a boat. There's no if about it. Jon insists that the time will come. It will not likely be another sailboat--but buying (and using) a boat is an adventure that most certainly awaits us.
I'm sure Kevin will be delighted to go on the boat. He's up for anything.
Here's hoping I will be, too.