02 December 2015
December 1, 2015
Thirty minutes until touchdown. Thirty minutes until we arrive in Puerto Vallarta. Our third season of cruising and this is the first time we are arriving by plane. And the first time I feel so utterly disconnected from the boat.
I started growing roots again. Not only because we have spent the last seven months in the states, but we have been working on our home, making it more homey. Thus, the roots.
And, of course, there is a bit of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome going on. After all, we didn't leave in the best of conditions, having had the dinghy accident and me, in a wheelchair. I haven't been back on the boat since April 11th – the day of my accident. And poor Jay. He keeps reliving that awful scene. Still questioning, what if?
There is excitement too. Cruising! Remember that? New, exotic landscapes, the lap of waves, the sway of the boat, the warmth of the sun. The beautiful, white, sandy beaches that stretch for miles and miles. The whales!
Yes, I feel very fortunate to live such a diverse lifestyle. To wake up to something new and different each day. I'm not sure what this season holds, but I'm really looking forward to sailing further south. For years, I have wanted to explore the southwestern coast of mainland Mexico. I just never thought I would go by boat.
Ten minutes to touchdown. Seat belts buckled. Tray tops fastened and seats in an upright position.
I look outside the airplane window at the mountains covered with forests. I can see the coast with white water breaking on the beach in the the distance. I contemplate the past. I dream of the future...