Doubts and uncertainty and financial stress have been part of my landscape for years now. Can I justify paying for this house, staying in an unpredictable business that I'm inexperienced in, bringing my kids out here, beating on my joints and back, not pursuing the conventional job situation? On this chilly breezy late July Sunday afternoon with windswirl sounds coming through the screen as I wake up from a short nap on the couch, having had breakfast of Cait's egg's, Eva's bread, my crabmeat and Megan's alchemy with those ingredients, I have no doubts at all. It's home.
"Any idiot can fish the shore" one mentor told me. That idiot would be me. I started out in the peapod among the rocks and kelp. I've started learning my way outside a bit more on Close Enough, but I still like working around the shore. This is my fifth season running my own boat, which seems impossible-I just started. This year, though, I'm not sinking, snarling or losing track of as much gear. The workflow is steady and consistent and more orderly and rational. The steadiness gradually turns to better paychecks and fewer nightsweats. The boat is itself a home of sorts and helps us stitch together a life where we have transportation options for the kids and ourselves, and can keep the house up. That way it's not a house on the island, its home.
So today is not the Downeast Magazine kind of late July day, not like last week when we went in the water and stayed in, but it is a sweet Sunday at home.