I’m used to the waking up in the middle of the night, the tight claustrophobic spaces, the uncomfortable toilets. I’m used to the hauling, the sheeting, and the freshening, the watching, and the steering. I’m used to the smells and the sounds, and the thoughts that waft and reverberate and wander through me.
And there are some things that I won’t get used to. Standing alone on the bow, watching the sunset over the open sea. Lying down and gazing at the mast as it makes lazy circles in the air, the stars stationary behind it. But it’s the people on the boat who make it a special place. The singing and the arguing and the dancing and the laughing at nothing at all.
Today marks the day when I personally realize we don’t have that long left. And I’m not surprised at how sad it makes me feel. But the sadder that makes me, the more I realize how happy the trip has made me.