Today was the first time in a long time that I was really reminded that I’m living on a boat. We’ve been here long enough that I don’t notice things like the size of our home or the way that I twist just the right way to pass through the hallway to my bedroom, and perform a different twist on the way back. We’re in a fairly protected spot and on most days the movement of the water is slow and quiet and you barely notice it.
Today, though, was so windy. The wind howls through all the masts of the marina. If you’re paying attention you can hear it coming as it rattles first a few boats away, and then closer, and then your neighbor, right before it rattles you. Really loud rattles and clanks approaching mean that we’re about to sway. Last night the winds stayed consistently strong and the dock line above my head creaked and stretched all night. I like the sound and the motion, though it was jerker than I prefer last night.
Kinsley and I had the boat to ourselves for a day while Owen went with Alex to New York. It was amazing to watch her little body adjust to all the movement without ever interrupting her games. I stumbled a couple of times and more often found myself bracing slightly against a counter or the couch. Kinsley didn’t bother. She lined up pillows and books to be her sleigh and walked along them, back and forth, arranging her passengers, not noticing when a particularly strong gust titled us hard to the side. She simply adjusted. No comment, no fuss, she unconsciously made the motion of the water part of her motion in play.
I’m not sure how much she will remember about living in a house. I know what her body will remember about living on a boat.
Joy, you write beautifully. I feel honored to go along for the journey (minus the seasickness that I would be feeling today).