mfers

This week’s been rough. That peculiar sadness of transition, of things coming to an end. We’ve hauled the boat, tucked her up like some sleeping beast. The family flew home to Australia, carrying laughter and loose ends. I remain, in the yard, alone, scrambling around the hull like a forgotten creature.

Rain keeps coming. Thick, hot, tropical rain that makes no sense on a supposedly desert island. The mainsail is still up, heavy with water. Rigging runs with wetness. Every job - fiberglass work, engine work,  cleaning, stowing - has been postponed indefinitely by humidity and absurd weather.

There’s a massive to-do list. It mocks me. Five days left. Even finding objects onboard is like wandering through a fog. Nothing stays dry. Nothing stays where it should.

You wonder why people put themselves through this. Why they choose the wandering life. But then I remember: the coral shelves, the sky at anchor, a child asleep with salt in her hair. And I feel it again, a flicker of joy, stubborn and pure.

Sometimes we all feel empty its okay to be tired 🖤

I’m ok just need to smash it out this week