Anticipation

I have long maintained that anticipating an event is often times better than the event itself. Think about when you were young and single (if you're still young and single, bear with me) and you actually got a date, or just the phone number of someone who you were crazy about. The interim between the time of that potential future rendevous (or phone call) and the occasion itself was excruciating in a sweet, anticipatory way. Well, I've been in an extended period of that sort of anticipation for the past three weeks.

While I'm no longer young, or single (thankfully) , my soul has always been stirred at the sight of a well-designed sailboat. On the water with its spinnaker full or on a trailer in an overgrown boatyard, some vessels just elicit a sense of wonder and appreciation, even though I've only sailed a handful of times.

When I was visiting Mom's house a few weeks ago, we were heading to church and saw a boat on someone's front lawn with a for-sale sign on it. The boat caught my eye before I saw the sign. Its sheer was perfectly aligned with its bow. The port lights looked to be the right proportion for the size of the cabin. The lines, angles and scale conspired to form that rare beauty which goes beyond the eye of the beholder.

I've wanted to sail for as long as I can remember, but the prospect has always been daunting. It is a thing not to be taken lightly. Hell, just learning how to tie a sheet bend was off-putting. But this boat, somehow, made it seem accessible. Sitting there on the lawn on Chapman Avenue, I knew that I could take her out into the cold, blue, vast ocean; sail all day or longer, and then return to Rye Harbor safe-and-sound.

I slowed the car and looked at her for a long second. Mom must have noticed my interest, but she didn't say much of anything. Then, when we were coming back from mass, and I slowed to a crawl again, she made me write down the phone number. No sooner had we gotten in her front door and I was dialing the phone.

I went over and it was raining. The guy showed me around the trailer. I hopped up on deck and took a look at the cabin which was dirty and wet. But DAMN - I was hooked! I wanted to get that boat out onto Bigelow Bight that very day.

The guy who showed me the boat said that it belonged to his son. I called the owner, and before I knew it, we had agreed on a price. That was three weeks ago and I'm heading back down to pick the boat up this Saturday. I can't describe the anticipation. I am on the verge of fulfilling a life-long ambition. I hope that the reality is as good, or better than the anticipation.