Almost six months since I last posted here. I feel guilty for abandoning this blog, my writing, my boat. I have been adrift, as usual, trying to find my way, trying to cut a path toward peace and stability, but also toward love and adventure. The world is not enough. I want so much more.
Spring and summer had ups and downs. Filled with music (among the highlights, David Gilmour, Ween, Dead & Co., a Phish fest over my birthday weekend, Rebelution, The Green, and a crazy sparkly spinning four days camping at Lockn’ Festival). Filled with love and with tears as the surfer and I navigated our first year together. Filled with change.
Just over three weeks ago we, (the surfer, pup-dog, and the cats), moved off of Ambrosia and into a small house ashore. My attempt to purchase a home was shot down due to the student loan disaster that haunts me. But we rented a little (less than 800-square-foot) house around the corner from where I rented prior to buying Ambrosia. It’s too small, too expensive, and has only one closet for storage in the whole house, but for the time being it’s ours. The move has been very, very hard on me. Between saying goodbye to Ambrosia, the strain big changes put on a relationship, and the financial pressures, I sometimes just want to get in my car and drive until I get to Cali. But I’m trying to hang in there, be strong, be patient, believe in myself, my future, the surfer, and love.
I haven’t seen Ambrosia in two weeks. She was in the water when I left her but has since been hauled and blocked for storage on land until she sells. She’s listed on craigslist in Annapolis and Washington, DC, as well as SailboatListings.com. The asking price is what she surveyed for when I bought her four years ago. I may not get that much, but it is a fair number considering the upgrades I made and the ones she would still benefit from. I am hoping someone will buy her soon, love her as I did and more, restore her to her former glory, sail her far and wide, and give her plenty of adventures.
I’ve spilled a bucket of tears for her in the past month. I stood alone with her in the dark at the dock, having moved almost everything off of her, and cried. I told her I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t sail her away, didn’t give her all that she needed. So sorry that I failed her. I don’t enjoy sailing but I loved that boat. She was the only home I’ve ever owned, kept a roof over my head when I would have been homeless, kept me safe, kept me going when all hope was lost. She saved my life in so many ways. And I failed her. Now she sits on the hard with all those other boats and dreams people have abandoned. And she must be so sad and lonely.