All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go (sort of)....nonetheless, I'm leavin' on a jet plane tomorrow, don't know when I'll be back again. I will finally join my hubby who, with the very much appreciated help of Todd and then Mike, has gallantly spent the last two weeks sailing our boat to Stonington, CT - a whopping 1494 statute miles (1298 nautical miles) from Naples - so as to afford me the luxury of simply flying in. I am one lucky girl.

But a little known wiki tidbit is that "Leaving on a Jet Plane", written by John Denver in 1966 and most famously recorded by Peter, Paul and Mary, was originally titled "Oh Babe, I Hate to Go". And at this very moment, sitting in my comfortable (and comforting) home, having just enjoyed dinner at my folk's house and now with my son peacefully asleep upstairs, the latter song title seems more fitting. Fifty-three years into it, I have finally crafted a satiating life with a rhythm and ritual that really works for me. I am living in this sweet spot with just the right amount of family time, friend time, couple time and alone time.....and now I am leaving it. No fan of change, I am throwing caution and comfort, literally, to the wind to embark on this seafaring journey of my husband's design. I'd be lying if I did not admit that, on many levels, Oh babe, I hate to go.

While everyone is absolutely certain this will be an "amazing experience", I still have my reservations. Undoubtedly there are pros to the trip - most notably spending this rich time with my husband, visiting with our currently-Bostonian daughter Katie, exploring dozens of quaint memorable ports and just plain leaving behind this staggering Florida heat. As I pen this, even I have to say that's a pretty impressive list. But I find that I need to keep these pluses front and center because, despite my best repressive efforts, those pesky minuses keep creeping in to spoil the party.

For instance, with the frenzy of our trip preparations behind me, I thought these two weeks at home without David would serve to recharge me and build my excitement about the trip. And while over this fortnight absence has made this heart grow to fondly anticipate our reunion, it has also ambivalently reiterated how much I savor, indeed, require my solitude. How will I carve out such space for myself joined-at-the hip with my husband 24/7 in the confines of our 40' boat far from the come-and-go freedom of the shore? Have I also mentioned that I am mildly claustrophobic, abhor clutter and thrive on routine? Casting off the routine for a few weeks' vacation is one thing, even a welcome thing, but how does that extrapolate over 3 months? Having heard so many horror stories, I also suspiciously worry that we adjusted to David's abrupt retirement almost TOO well. Was it because we were so absorbed preparing for this trip? With this "project" now behind us, will the boat become a crucible revealing the hidden strains in our post-retirement relationship? A relative nautical newcomer but otherwise a pretty independent and able female, how will my necessary reliance on David, the lifelong sailor, tilt the marital balance of power and what mischief will my wounded ego make of it? And then there are the concerns about things back home: How will my parents fare during our long absence? How could we be "abandoning" Eric just as he has so recently rejoined us in Naples? What happens to friendships put on hiatus for 3 months?

Enough - Let it go! Ah, if I could stop the incessant chatter and just wing it, just FEEL it! Platitudes aside and perhaps easier said than done, that's ultimately what this voyage is about for me: an opportunity to cast off my automatic over thinking /planning/organizing in favor of just trusting the course and truly experiencing it. {Do I see all of you emphatically nodding?} Because while this expedition will probably not be as great as my husband hopes, it's also not apt to be as bad as I fear. Who knows, maybe David's secret wish will come true and I will be the one who doesn't want to come back. Yes, I know, that's not too likely. But as I set out to leave on that jet plane there are surely some other refreshingly unexpected unplanned, and uncharted surprises ahead. Right? I am committed to keep telling myself that.

"Transformation always involves the falling away of things we have relied on, and we are left with the feeling that the world as we know it is coming to an end, because it is." - Mark Nepo

"Anything I've ever done that ultimately was worthwhile initially scared me to death." -- Betty Bender