We are back on the water, although we have barely moved since we splashed five days ago. The last two years have been near-constant boat work, punctuated by “real work” to pay for it (and stay sane), with the last two months containing an absolutely inconceivable amount of heavy lifting. Last night we both scrolled through photos on our various devices, and I had a very hard time placing the images in their realistic timeline.
Do you ever have periods of your life that seem compressed, as if time actually slows down? It is disorienting when that sort of time comes to a close. It is also pretty awesome I have to say.
On our way down to St.Marys (to visit a locally-famous boatyard that we loved and enjoyed thoroughly), we stopped in the Brickhill River behind Cumberland Island to rendezvous with our friends Debbie and Brian, who – as luck would have it – were just wrapping their work period in the very same yard.
As we headed into the danger zone – leaving the water in May – it brought life to a harrowing moment to see these two fresh-faced beauties shaking off the yard dirt. Debbie and I took a jaunt across the island and hurled ourselves into the sea just for emphasis.
So it is with great flourish that I write this tonight, having miraculously re-splashed our boat, having both lost and found our cat, having cheered Dawn Treader to Bermuda, having watched an entire season of Battlestar Galactica in an embarrassingly short amount of time, and having finally gotten back to the starting line, live from Brickhill River.