The big leap!

Eric, Cory, and The Wonder Dog, Jamie

When I was three years old, my parents, my brother, our dog, and I moved from El Paso, Texas where we were wearing shorts and t-shirts to Vermont... in January... during the coldest and snowiest winter Vermont had seen in 77 years - literally.  We moved back to Texas on my fourth birthday, six short months later, after my dad determined that maybe this Texas family did not need to live through another northeastern winter.  I sort of remember a moving truck and have the faintest memories of new things to come because we were moving again.

As Rob, the cats, and I drove to Florida this past week, 4'x8' trailer in-tow, I was overwhelmed by this memory (or, due to lack-of-concrete-memory, "knowledge" may be more fitting): at 26- and 25-years-old, my parents were moving their six- and almost-four-year-old (oh, and The Wonder Dog) from one end of the country back to the end they had just left in search of income and a comfortable, stable life.  The first morning we woke up on the boat was Rob's 36th birthday, my 35th will be in seven months - we are literally a decade older than my parents were and we just moved with a spouse for the first time in either of our lives, no kids yet, running away from an unstable economy and lack of jobs, looking forward to adventure and an unknown future.  And, yet, the part I kept getting caught up on was that I am a wife moving with my family (the cats help round us out as a true family) across the (bottom part of the) country.  That part was blowing my mind!

That is until Rob began reading a publication called Southwinds to me as I drove, a fairly regular custom we recently find ourselves doing when we have a good chunk of time to kill, such as 24-hours worth of driving.  Southwinds is a free monthly magazine that is usually about 20 pages of ads, facts about sailing in and around south Florida, and articles from sailors with topics ranging from refurbishing a boat to "my worst nightmare disaster on-board my sailboat was when..." stories.  Eight hours from our new home, our "sailboat-as-our-home" home(!), Rob reads me a story from a seasoned sailor who lost most of his mast, a story we would come to hear from other seasoned sailors here in Florida, giving me that "it's sinking in" feeling that our new home can SINK!  That's a weird concept to grasp, to say the least...

The first night on the boat was surreal after driving from Dallas to Marathon, 24 hours worth of driving with six hours' sleep in the car at a rest stop, turning on the car every two hours for warmth.  During those 24 hours, there were so many thoughts dancing through my head regarding where I am in my life, where my family is in its life, the fact that I hate leaving my family to travel because it's my "Sophie's Choice" decision, the fact that this is the strangest path I would never have conceived my life becoming.  We got to the boat 36 hours after leaving my mom's house; we were exhausted, hungry, stunned, overwhelmed, and - soon enough - a little drunk.  When that exhausted, it doesn't take much to get drunk; when that excited on top of that exhaustion, you pray the alcohol will knock you out before your brain has the chance to keep you awake all night.  We made it until just a few minutes after midnight (a little more than an hour after getting to the boat), just enough time to officially (and a little sloppily) tell Rob "happy birthday".

The next morning was the beginning of Rob's 36th year of life, the best birthday he says he's had in a VERY long time; honestly, how do you top waking up on the fully paid-off boat that is your home in 70-degree weather during December?!  I can't explain the feeling that shot through me when Rob hugged me and squealed out a "thank you" that was rich with emotion which could have been for me, the Universe, or us both. The fulfillment of a boy's fantasy, a teenager's desire, and a man's wish filled his throat and my eyes with excitement and emotions beyond gratitude.

The next two days were spent unpacking all of our stuff from the boxes on-shore into the boat, a feat we had our doubts about when we first began unpacking.  The amazing thing about this boat is that it is HUGE - especially for a 32-footer!  Everything fit, though it doesn't look so great right now: our v-berth (the front end of the boat that has a bed big enough for two adults) is crammed with beer and wine brewing equipment, Rob's guitar, fishing rods, and other miscellaneous items.  The galley (kitchen) will take some time getting used to and deciding what goes where once we start cooking in it.  And we have determined that we have a lot of books, including many anthropology/public health books and research manuals that I hope to use here very soon.  But, step-by-step, we are getting used to living on a boat.

Yesterday, we sailed our home for the first time, an experience that deserves its own posting and will be coming SOON!  After we came back, Rob and I talked about the experience over rum drinks and realized that we felt pretty amazed by it all.  We had cooked, eaten, and cleaned dinner dishes by 7:00 last night, which was followed by an evening of watching Netflixed TV shows and Jon Stewart as we cuddled on the settee and looked around our boat.  How is it possible for this small little space to already feel so much like "home"?  We know where everything is, we have filled the spaces with our stuff, and we have already fallen in love with this life!  She is already very much our home...

Now, if we could just figure out what her name should be!

I promise that there will be more postings, more detail, and the final installments of finding The Boat now that we are unpacked and have settled time on our hands.  As we figure this out, I want to make sure everyone gets to know what we are up to, where we are, and where you can come stay with us!  So, check back, sign up as a follower for the blog, and make sure to drop a note when you got the chance - I love hearing from all of our loved ones!!!