A man died at the marina on Friday.
I don’t know all the details, I didn’t ask, but I heard his heart stopped. They say he was sitting on shore near his boat at the time. A woman rushed over when he collapsed. She is a retired nurse and worked on him until the portable defibrillators were brought from the office. The ambulance arrived. No one could revive him.
I did not know the man.
His story got me thinking.
I have been feeling a little tense these last few weeks. The supposed rainy season is in full swing, only without any real precipitation just the heat and crushing humidity. It is starting to get uncomfortable with two people lying in the vee berth, our collective body heat making it too sticky to sleep. The marina is busy, the noise starts at 7am everyday, even Sunday.
Sometimes I feel like I can’t think. Sometimes it seems like we have no privacy. And what happens when you get anxious and live in tight quarters with someone? You start to taking it out on each other.
We decided to get the dinghy out of storage. If we’re gonna be at the marina for much longer we need to alleviate the fish out of water feeling that is starting to smother us while we live on a boat in a hole in the ground. The little beach just in front of the boat is perfect for launching at high tide; we can wheel the dinghy across the lawn, float over the reef and slip away for a few hours. On Sunday we packed a picnic lunch and our fishing rods. We escaped.
I do some good thinking in the dinghy, always have. Something about the white noise of the outboard, it drowns out the chatter in my head. Being so close to the water, feeling the waves beneath me and letting my body connect to the rhythm of the ocean feels natural; necessary.
It was a clear and beautiful day. The fog had lifted and the mountains were visible. The water looked blue and sparkly. The clouds were dramatic, ever-changing shapes. Even the jumble of masts at the marina looked quaint and inviting.
We stopped and drifted while we had lunch.
Looking towards shore was like staring at an animated postcard. That place we were trying to get away from looked tropical and alluring from a distance.
I suddenly realized how often we overlook the simple beauty of the everyday. How careful we have to be not to become complacent with life and how easy it is to change your vantage point and gain a little perspective on things.
We have a boat, we have each other, we have our health.
It is a damn good life.