Pen Shells and Purpose

Well, as most of you suspected, I was bound to hit another wall.  A spiky coquina one to be exact.  Coquina (tiny pieces of rock, coral, and shell) being the building material of choice here in St. Augustine for over five hundred years!  A combination of factors swirled about causing a tornado of emotions which spun me headlong into my collision.

It is still up for debate, by any sane individual, if you can stop what is coming for you!

Although the wall I hit may have been figurative, the conversations that have followed have been very real.  Thanks to all of you who have been such willing listeners!

We are discussing an early return to New England, but, hesitate at every turn.  To have come so far and not make the Bahamas passage would be a bitter pill.  Realistically, we would have to sell the boat to help us get re-established.

On the one hand, I am done with living in a bottle...conservative, judgmental retirees and kid-haters rampant at the marina...missing family and friends horribly...physically tired of the constant work (Mom's, think camping for six months in one tent with husband and two children)... John Edward working long doubles...no car...no couch...dormlike showers...an oven that reminds me of my childhood shake-and-bake...typical two year old tantrums and nine year old sassiness that I can't close the door on...

HOWEVER...the magical moments continue even as I become disenchanted.  Like a symbol of hope and beauty, Blake and Dante returned from the beach with their father covered in sand and smiles and holding a pen shell a foot long.  The shell, now a permanent sculpture on the boat, serves as a reminder of this journey's primary purpose...to slow down and cherish each other.