Monday, April 18, 2011

Night Cruise

I was only able to join Charlie and his friends once for a night sail.  It was awesome.  The boat was huge and it was a totally different experience.  The sailor boyfriend of my twenties only had a 25 foot sailboat.  The views of the Capital and monuments from the river were amazing.  It was dark on the river and the shores on both sides glowed with light.  There was wine and cheese but since I was driving, only coke.  

Charlie let me the wheel at one point.  He guided me.  The power of the wind and sails was amazing.  The boat had a huge mast and the boom and sails were enormous.  Charlie set the course to a flashing and buoy and we cut through the black water straight to our mark.  I gave him back the helm and sat down to take in the scenery.

Sitting in the darkness with people chatting, the sound of the sail sometimes groaning, water rushing against the bow, I could hardly believe I was there.  We sailed down just south of Fort Belvoir and then came about.  Charlie used the motor on the way back to the marina.  I heard the familiar sound of the clanging halyards as we approached the docks. 

I headed to my van after bidding all a good night. I was returning to my boys who were home with a cousin, happy and content watching a show, perhaps already asleep.

In the van on my drive home, I could feel the difference in myself.   The sadness wasn't as intense.  I still ached for Rick and felt the hole in our lives but  the boys were fine.  I was fine.  It was okay to be okay.

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