How do we begin.. to tell a story..?

Famous first line, somewhat shitty first draft

“How do we begin to tell the story..?” is the truncated first line of a famous, if dated love song from The Way We Were. It is a refrain that has been in my consciousness for many days-okay-months-as we move into our new adventure.

Each day upon waking, or during some fitful nights fully awake, Joe and I have been asking ourselves: What are the most important tasks of the day? What will get us to the big picture? Where is the destination exactly? What are the goals? What is THE goal?

As the appointed and self-appointed chronicler of our journey, the task “Start blog” keeps getting recycled to my to-do list. Everything else feels more urgent. Sitting still long enough to write feels self-indulgent.

Where will I find the time? Where is the beginning? What could I say worth reading once again by myself, much less even once by others?

So many questions, so much contemplation and no output.

Weeks ago, in the midst of our move-on chaos, I tried on my now-sister-in-law Joanne’s glamorous wedding dress(spoiler alert: unsurprisingly a wee snug for my curves) in the main salon of our Adiona. Joanne gave me a special family keepsake that belonged to Joe’s mom to wear on our wedding day. I was moved to tears as we leaned in to exchange hugs and declarations of love.

That evening, we bundled salad and grillables together to join the cookout I’d organized near the grill for any live-aboards in our marina community who wanted to join us for dinner.

Two evenings before that, and a few evenings since, Joe and I shared a bottle celebratory Prosecco and danced in that same salon after a successful ___ (engine reboot, water heater repair, yada, yada). Our departure list IS getting smaller.

Earlier that morning I completed my strength exercise routine and morning yoga in that same few square feet.

As that evening faded into darkness at that cookout on the deck overlooking our marina, we shared stories, delicious food ranging from potato chips with sour cream onion dip(secret guilty pleasure) to kale salad. New friendships had begun in the way that happens when people share the same dream, along with vulnerabilities and stories.

Boat show time!

Above: A hard-working sailor taking a break during our initial move-on.

Below: Early morning stillness before a Bakers&Co. run. We take provisioning seriously.

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Promises of future meetups, yoga sessions and dinners had been made, even though some of us were departing by sea, air or car the very next day.

Waking in the middle of that night, I stumbled the already familiar steps to the head I can now count in the complete darkness if need be, I glanced at the gleaming, polished teak of our salon and felt a wave of joy, then contentment wash through me.

I am home. We are home. The time is now. The destination is the boat. The journey and story have long been started. We are always-each of us- joining in midstream.