Nautical Farewell

Yesterday, I became Gilligan. With a sad smile, I watched as my sweet, old boat pulled out of my driveway for its last time. Yet, it would not be going to the reservoir for a day on the water, and it would not be responsible for pulling a "Big Bertha" inner tube or an inexperienced skier. No, yesterday its destination was a new driveway, a new family, a new home, and a new future of memories and experiences. I have never been fond of the boat's color, and to be quite honest, it is not the most handsome boat on the waters. Yet, as I watched it slip away from view yesterday afternoon, it had never looked so beautiful. However, the boat did not experience a Cinderella story where a nautical-fairy godmother came along and transformed it into a beautiful and royal voyager of the seas- it was the people and the memories that were linked to the boat that made it so beautiful.

As the boat drove away, I saw myself learning to ski and finally standing up successfully for the first time (which took thousands of times- so BIG DEAL). I heard Allison singing every single song that came to her mind while we were tubing- if you know Allison, you understand why this is humorous). I saw Allison rolling and flopping on top of Maidee and me as we tried to tube and Maidee always being in the center so she could hold down and keep Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee from flying off the inner tube. I saw the day Allison got the bright idea to try to catch the fish with her mouth while we were tubing. I saw us running off the back of the boat trying to escape the angry bee. I remembered sitting on the dock for thirty minutes as my dad searched the entire boat for the key to finally remember he left it at home. I saw the friends who once filled the now empty seats and heard the laughter and priceless conversations that once permeated the now silent boat. I saw a part of my childhood. That is what I saw as the boat was riding away.

Yet, I won't be sad for long, for there will be other boats. There will be new memories- new experiences. That is the beauty in life- there will always be another "boat." There will always be a new season- a new joyful time in life- a new opportunity for peace and escape- a chance to be pulled out of the water and to stand on your feet- people who will not let you fall when the "boat" speeds up- people who make you laugh with their "songs"- and new days of sunshine.

Therefore, I suppose that in fact, this is not a nautical farewell after all. It is only a see you later. Until then, I will be like Gilligan, and anxiously await my new "boat."