Warmed by Family

My view is quintessential New England. A rocky shoreline sprinkled with earth-toned cape houses frames a foggy horizon, and a handful of coy lobster pots bob in the distance, misrepresenting the magnitude of what’s to come. We know it will be mayhem, yet, we can’t resist sailing to Maine. Give us your buoys, nets, and traps! We’ll dodge ’em for a glimpse of a bald eagle, the smell of a pine forest, and the feel of those pebbled beaches under our feet. We’re leaving on a south wind tonight and not stopping until we reach Acadia.

We have plenty of good memories to occupy our minds in the blue. Zachary was here. After completing his second year of medical school, he came to rest and eat ice cream. With our help, he had no problem doing these things in Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket. It was hard work, but we went all out, supplementing his waffle cones and naps with beach wanders and bike rides.

John and Elaine were here too. They came to walk their dog, Lucky. With our help, they had no problem doing this in P-town. We put in our best effort lollygagging down Commercial Street and bobbing in the dinghy to watch the seals. We even baked a coconut cake with unintentional marzipan icing. It was delicious.

Sailing from Provincetown to Plymouth to Rockport in 11 knots on the beam over smooth seas was as easy as our guests, and when the south winds came we were snuggled in tight enough to leave Gerty for the day. So we took the train to the Hammer’s house in Boston, where over lunch my nieces told me about the Taylor Swift concert. Clearly, there’s nothing left to write that could be better than that.

We’ll miss this little town where we continued to toil away. The people from Gloucester, pronounced, Glawster made us laugh over a tall glass of Maine Allagash White. Cheers!