It Was the 4th of July and it Was Loud

Upon my arrival I was greeted by four wide eyes.  The moment I slid the hatch open the smell of dog panic spread through the air. The sound of their anxious breathing plagued me with concern.

Fire works blasted at a constant and I could not help but to imagine cannonballs smashing into wooden ships.  My minds eye could see smoke mixed with wood splinters and men dressed in clothing from the 1700’s.

Once I resurfaced from my imagination I could see that the dock, my home, was covered with strangers.  They all eagerly awaited the massive firework show to come with beers in hand.  Their laughter rang through the air joyous and reckless.  As I watched the families of duck skim across the water frantic and in search of a safe place, I wished the strangers were gone.

Despite my wish they were all here and it was time for me to navigate through them with two panicked dogs.  Henry towed me completely oblivious to all the visitors.  All he knew was that he wanted to run and run far away.  Luna had a vacant gaze with a hint of panic.  Those who know Luna would tell you that is no different than any other day, but the panic in her gaze was deeper.

An example of Luna's usual panicked gaze
An example of Luna’s usual panicked gaze

Upon exiting the dock I spotted Sean with two of our closest friends. Relief set in after locating familiar faces. They were standing by our car eating sandwiches and discussing the evening plans. Once Sean locked eyes on the the dogs and I he remembered that for most the 4th of July is Independence Day, but for us it is Dog Panic Day. To solidify this fact Henry literally had the shit scared out of him in response to a particularly loud blast. (Thank you Henry for eating an entire bag of ground coconut prior to this incident.)

Originally we had so many set plans, but plans at the dock are like water, in constant motion and change. The four of us like water found our way around that rock that was our fearful dogs.

We chose to meet up at the beach with our neighbor Matt who also has a dog. It was surprisingly quiet in comparison.  The rest of the world was on the dock or the river.

A fire was lit and the firework show had already began once we arrived. I was finally in my element.  Surrounded by friends I cherish and sitting directly on the sand snuggled against my husband.  Although Henry and Luna were not calm they were a bit more settled.

The extravagant, dare I say excessive fireworks lit up the sky revealing  the silhouettes of anchored sailboats.  Sean nor I thought to bring our camera and for that I do apologize.  What started as an anxious evening ended with pleasant company and a guilty enjoyment for explosives.


An Urge to Write


It is late in the evening or early in the morning, the middle of the night time frame. I have found myself restless with an urge to write.  Honestly I am in the perfect setting for inspiration. Bundled up in blankets and curled up in the aft cabin of a 34 foot sailboat.

The wind is smacking the halyard against the mast.  This is a sound that I instantly fell in love with when I moved on a sailboat.  It is a chime that reminds me that the world is not still.  Wind moves across the globe and it is theorized that the same wind never stops.  It is the ultimate marathon athlete. I know it is a westerly wind for the rocking of my boat is more noticeable and I can hear the music of the water splash against the aft of my boat.

Never before living on a sailboat was I included in the symphony of the Earth. Never before did I understand that she constantly moves and changes, and sings.

It was not until I moved out of my literal box that I learned how to begin the path of moving out of my social box. I have began to find comfort in being a little unsure footed. Surprisingly I am still able to keep my balance.

When I reflect on my life before living on a sailboat I recall a joke that I would make about being a boring person.  What I did not realize was boring meant asleep.  Sure….I was happy enough and I never felt depressed but life was a sleep walk, back home, and to work again.  I was always in a box weather it was a my home or the car to get me to work, or the place of my work.  As much as I lived in the world I was not a part of the world.  My box blocked the wind, controlled my temperature, and filtered my air.  Most of all the society box never let me hear the symphony of the world.

Now when the wind pushes through, my home moves out of her way.  When it is hot out side I am hot.  When it is cold outside I am cold.  Now I can smell the sweat air or the stinky aroma of Sea lions.  Most importantly I live within the worlds symphony.