My question to you is "to blog or not to blog?" After all, this is sailblogs.com and today is the day I step off the wonderful Seawind catamaran that has been my home for the last 10 months and I once again become a land lubber!

Without waiting for your insightful reply, I will carry on with the blog until there is nothing more to add, no more residual effects still changing who we are as individuals and as a family.

My mind is awhirl as I have one bare foot on the boat and one foot in a pair of hiking boots more suitable to land life. I should be out laying in the sun even though its only 8 in the morning; after all, it's snowing back home. I should be out wandering the streets looking for that last elusive street taco or elotes con crema (basically corn in a cup with mayo, butter, lime, chili and cheese - incredibly delicious and my hips can attest to my infatuation with this culinary delight). And yet, I find myself trying to just breathe. To not think about not sailing Tenacious Grace out of this channel, not snorkeling, not kayaking, not buddy sailing with new friends....okay, now I'm appropriately sad!

My face is set towards my homeland and I eagerly anticipate long hours of coffee/wine visits telling our adventures/ordeals but am stymied at being prepared to sum up in a few scant sentences how we have been changed. Yeah, right! There are no easy answers to the upcoming, anticipated questions; "What was your favorite anchorage? How has this changed you? What was the best part of the whole experience? Would you do it again? Why are you going back to land life? I thought you were going to cruise for two years; why stop after just one?" How can I possibly answer these with any honesty without a month to debrief first?

After all, life on a sailboat is much slower than on land. We travel at an average of eleven kilometers an hour (six miles/hour) and nothing happens quickly. I am awestruck that I can leave Mexico at four in the afternoon and be back in Canada by eight pm! This is so fast! People scurrying, hurrying, intent on their purposes and their quiet lives of desperation (thanks Ralph).

My questions that remain unanswered and avoided due to fear of their answers run more along the line of, "What will I do next? How will I handle settling into a routine? Will I become dull? Will my world be too small to fulfill my wanderlust? Will we dare to risk another adventure? What will life after sailing really be like? Will I miss it so much that I will want to do it again? Could I even admit that if it became my reality?"

And so my mind is being scattered to the four winds and I try in vain to grasp my thoughts before they float away; ineffectually, I might add. All I can do today is put my bare foot in my other hiking boot, strap on my pack, drive to the airport and meet my new life with an open mind.

ps. If you are wondering why I didn't mention any thoughts regarding my wonderful, passionate husband single handing the boat back up the Pacific Ocean to San Diego, it is because I am trying not to think about it. Those thoughts are much too scary at this time in my life. I love him and he is a brave man. I pray for his safety, that he would find rest and that the journey will be all he hopes it to be.