06 February 2020
Sometimes I wonder if romance is only for the young and the newly coupled. Then I spend a night with my husband at anchor in Tenacatita.
We finished barbecuing the chicken and sat down to dinner in the cockpit under solar light. We opened a bottle of wine. Voices carry far across the water so we shared a quiet conversation. Laughter from the nearby catamaran caused us to smile.
The sun had recently set. The sailors’ conch chorus (A nightly ritual here in Tenacatita.) echoed across the bay announcing the end of the day. One by one, the stars began to peak out from behind the clouds that brought rain earlier in the day. There was a sliver of moon. Thirty-two anchor lights swayed with the gentle motion of the sea. Their reflections long across the water.
Later that night, I found myself unable to sleep. It was dark. The surf was pounding against the shore. The teak wood creaked and moaned as it adjusted to the movement of the waves. Water gurgled in the sink pipes. Jay had managed to tighten the main boom but the mizzen boom was stubborn and continued to squeak as the boat rocked from side to side. Not to be left out, metal shackles bumped against the stanchions adding to the song. A soft, cool breeze drifted down through the hatch. Every once in a while, I could hear Jay’s breath as he shifted in his sleep. I found comfort in that.
In the morning, we woke up to a beautiful sunrise and each other. The sun, drawing pinks and oranges across the horizon, was pushing away the clouds that had haunted the sky the day before. The boat continued to dance in the waves. The sounds of silence were not quiet but meditative.
The beauty of this moment in my life was not lost. In fact, I discovered romance is not dead to us who are aging. It is even better now, if only we pay attention.