How did I get so lucky? It started with the dance. There she was, standing all alone. I eased up close, touching softly, slowly moving together. Faster it became, more playful, more energized, turning more into the lion dance, with the Leo’s inside both of us finding someone to wrestle, to hold, to play with. All so very natural and easy.

We are sailing now. A life much different than our dance in Boulder. What has made this part of the journey so wonderful for me is my sweet Elia. She brings a humor and goofiness into every day  that makes our little Orion such a happy place. We laugh and play constantly. Who knew it could all be so much fun?

The banjo comes out and starting with G, we jam. It started with Cripple Creek, over, and over. Then added Boil That Cabbage Down with a slight twist to the G. Branching out now to Miss Ohio, to Ripple, to singing, and growing. So shy at first, playing stronger now.

We make up stories about ladies in restaurants, about other people on boats. Who are the wife swappers we wonder? And then the questions about what does this mean, what are we doing with our lives, where will we go next, how do we want out lives to look when we got back to land.

I’m her little play thing. Her French man to dress up in my green linen shirt. Wouldn’t I look good in that bathing suit, those le saints underwear. She will get fixated on me, my body, my beard, my cute little face. I preen, and she laughs. She keeps telling me I’m the cutest thing ever. In my wetsuit, my pink bathing suit. She doesn’t want a skinny mini, wants something substantial to hold on to. I got that covered. Stroke, stroke, stroke.

She cooks us dinner, she makes me lunch. Great spreads of Garbanzo beans, tacos, green drinks in the mornings with the bullet blender she found on line. I always love it, that’s the deal. We watch inspector Lewis at night with his sidekick Hathaway. Silly British crime shows gets her going.

She gets in the water and swims much longer than I do, entranced by the fish and the coral. A turtle rises and she calls out to it. Porpoises surface and the 5 year old dances with glee on the deck

She has a frock addiction. Before Elia I didn’t know what a frock was. Now we go by the shops and I find there are frocks everywhere, and they are all “so cute”. Many are reluctantly passed by. Some make it into her drawers back on Orion.

Every week she conscientiously does her work from the boat, writing her articles. Always on time, quite responsible in the midst of our loose lifestyle. I read her my blog posts, and she listens and gives insights and feedback.

We sail, and she embraces her role as the one and only first mate. Coiling lines, getting the outboard onto the dinghy, snagging the mooring line, driving back on the anchor. We have developed our roles and our jobs. She secures the forward hatch, me the back. When someone else comes onboard it’s much easier to ask them to just step aside than to help. We have this down.

She writes, and it’s beautiful. So introspective and pure. I admire and envy her ease with the written words. Her mind is so clear as she remembers, when we read about the snorkeling spots to hit, or which restaurants have the best baguettes.

Has taken to rowing the dinghy. First try in Annapolis we went around in circles giggling. Now she takes over when the engine won’t start and gets us back home. Talks about developing her one tiny claw. Over to a boat in the evening with some friends. Eyes sparkle and come alive, laughing, engaging. Beautiful in the morning asleep, Full of her emotions of happy, sad, introspective, questioning, not hidden behind a mask for long.

She tells me we are clairaudient. She’s speaking what I’m thinking and vice versa on a very regular basis. I am feeling more like the women who live together that share their cycles. I too can rise and fall with the moon.

And we sail off into the sunset together. Or maybe just to Florida. This boating future still seems uncertain, but what I’m sure of is that I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else.