We were invited to spend the day on a boat here in Vero. I never understood the whole fishing and boating community, but I have to say, I think I have a better appreciation of that following and it was a lot less painful than originally anticipated. I think this makes us true Veroites now that we have been initiated into the boating fraternity.
We met up with Mark and Mary and their son, Luke, Sunday morning. I swim with Mark in the mornings, Mary is his lovely wife (who I think is hilarious), and Luke swims in our daughter's lane at the pm workouts. The day was unlike any other day we have experienced here: cold and miserable. The sun was no where to be seen and the wind was fierce and unforgiving. Because the wind was cutting to the bone, we initially decided to forego the boat and just fish on the dock in front of the house, which was spectacular. The kids loved running up and down the "pressed birch" with fishing rods and dead shrimp. They caught tons of puffer fish (which totally blew up and grunted upon being ripped out of the water, only to float atop it when tossed back in), some kind of snapper, and a few others who's names escape me now. Our boy was disappointed to learn these creatures were not going to be accompanying us home to a fish tank. He repeatedly said, "We can take them home for pets." Once he learned this was not an option, he lost interest in fishing and busied himself among the rocks and mangroves.
The view was really beautiful. This particular house was along the river in a very secluded canal, with views of the islands, lush with native trees. I have yet to really see a house here that is less than 3500 square feet. I think that is why people move here...for the space and room to breathe. Of course, I miss suburbia and everything that goes along with it. I don't mind having to hear my neighbors yell at each other if it means I can have a decent grocery store in manageable driving distance. Anyway, the house was a museum, the yard was something out of "Home and Garden", and the boat was impressive, too. We had lunch and cocktails outside on the patio while the kids continued their quest for fish on the dock.
After shivering and suffering in the cold for a few hours of puffer fish catch and release, Mark talked us into going out in the boat. Bundled up in sweats and wrapped in towels, we climbed on board for a trip down the canals. It actually was really cool to see the creatures up close and personal. We didn't see any manatees, but tons of dolphins, blue pelicans, water fowl I am not familiar with, and of course, fish. I am going to count us lucky for not encountering any water moccasins, gators, or bull sharks. Mark tried to dock on an island they dubbed "Luke's Island", because it is their son's favorite. The river has several *several* islands that my Marc keeps threatening to swim to (say it with me: shark bait). These islands are begging to be explored, camped upon (if you are into that sort of tent thing), and picnicked at (some have tables and BBQ pits). All are lush with trees and sandy beaches with no evidence of humanity. They are clean and serene, though flat and tropical, and they left me with a desolate and uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. When Mark could not dock the boat due to the heavy winds and strong current, I was not disappointed. Let's just say I was happy to not have to jump in the shark-infested water to drag the boat up the shore. I was very content sitting where I was on the plush seat with a view of the bridges and traffic passing over us.
When Mark gave our six year old the wheel, her face was to die for: she was thrilled beyond belief to be "driving" the boat. These are the experiences that make this time worth anything at all. These are the experiences I want my kids to carry with them and take in their hearts. Let's be real; I am never going to teach them about boats or fish, so how fortunate for us we have new found friends who are very savvy in both. Somehow, I am finding my way, despite the grief I still feel and the loss that always sneaks back in. When I am not thinking about what I am missing back home, what my kids are losing in school, what our families are feeling without us there, I am trying to appreciate this jaded journey, with my heart for a compass that just does not want to work. It just won't give me a clear reading about where we are to go on this journey. I find I am loving Marc in a way that I never knew I could, a way that defies explanation, but on a level of true soul mates. Is that cheesy? I know. Somehow our love has evolved into something of a necessity, something we just cannot live without. We need each other in a way we never looked to or relied on before. It has become somewhat like an old sweater that is so comfortable to slip into. Even though it may be old and worn, it is the favorite thing that hangs in the closet, the one thing I go back to regardless of the weather outside.
I continue to love my running group and friends. We ran 23 miles on Saturday just for fun. Our first Team in Training workout is this Saturday. I have met all of the participants and I am very excited and encouraged about most of them. They all reluctantly signed on to the triathlon team, since they were really looking for a marathon. Craig is already an awesome assistant coach and I am thankful everyday I was able to cajole him into this mania. We are laughing in spite of ourselves.
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