Make some memories………..drop a hook.

David Van Emburg

May 2009

 

Life is hectic. 

 

Work is busy.  We pay bills.  We keep the household running.  The paint is drying on my latest “honey-do” project.  My yard is mulched, trimmed, mowed and edged.  We officially leave Spring behind as we proudly attended Cole’s First grade awards ceremony.  Summer begins.  No doubt, the year will march on in a blur unless we slow the pace and make some memories. 

 

We arrive in our favorite quiet Hartwell cove in the early evening.  We drop a hook.  The boat gently sways in concert with our anchor rode.  The sun hangs just above the tree tops.  The waning day is still hot and steamy. 

 

Life is good.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

Sleeping overnight on a sailboat is a great adventure, especially when you are five and seven.  Eric and Cole remind us of this simple truth time and time again.  The heat of the day and the beating sun on the deck present obvious opportunity for fun.  Swimming.  Cole and Eric frequently swim in our neighborhood pool which is conveniently clear and critter-free.  Thus, the sunset swim typically is preceded by a detailed discussion of just what exactly DOES and DOES NOT live in lake water.   We’re making memories.

 

After the swim, we change into dry, comfortable clothes and enjoyed a light dinner in the cockpit.  As the sun drops below the tree line, the sky is brushed with beautiful shades of orange and red.  The temperature begins to cool.  Nature begins her nightly rituals and the cove comes to life with crickets chirping, fireflies blinking, and occasionally, you can hear a small splash from a fish or maybe from a frog.

 

I turn on the anchor light.  Still works, what a relief.  A half-moon fills the sky.  Cole eagerly shares his First grade knowledge and recites the phases of the moon.   We look for stars.  (Eric comments that the “moving stars are really planes.”). Cole teaches Eric an old poem that I had almost forgotten; ‘star light, star bright, first star I see tonight….’  Cole is a good big brother.  We’re making memories.  To my surprise, Cole points out a constellation.  Wow.  What are they teaching those kids in First grade?  Unfortunately, I am not much help after the Big Dipper.

 

   

 

After a short while, we roll into our berths.  A light breeze fills the wind scoop and cools our cabins.  The water is gently lapping against the hull.  We look forward to a restful night.

 

The sun is on the rise.  The water is glassy and still.  I stir in my bunk and smile to myself at the late hour, 7:30 a.m.  See, during the work week, I normally get up at 4:30 a.m.  I start the coffee for Melissa, who is still sleeping, and get breakfast together for the boys.

 

 

The boys slept well and their signature energy and enthusiasm is fresh.  They start a game of tag on the deck.  Did I mention that Melissa was still sleeping? 

 

Boats can be small. 

 

After my most skillful parenting techniques fail me, I retreat to the safety of the portable DVD player and put on a new Scooby-Doo movie.  Ahh…. The cove is quiet again.  Melissa is still sleeping. 

 

 

 

 

I lie on my back and rest my feet on the bow pulpit.  My hands clasp behind my neck and support my head as I look across the open water.  The warm sun is on my face and the breeze is just right.  Memories.

 

It is already mid-June.  Indeed, much of the year is a blur.  Except for that May night in our favorite cove.  Seeing the sunset.  Hearing the crickets. Watching the stars.  Making memories.