Sailing Ohana

We awoke early on our last day in the Bahamas, and all moved with a slow and steady purpose, knowing that it was a big day, and we were conscious of the emotional weight it carried. Tommy and I took Morris ashore for a long walk, and returned to the boat where the boys and us took the dinghy over to Grace where we said our good-byes (for real, this time). We spoke of future visits, ski vacations, and sailing together again someday. We went to Ripple to drop off our paddleboard and pick up Charlie so that Spencer would have a buddy for the sail up to Green Turtle Cay, where we would officially check out from the Bahamas. As we pulled up the anchor and left the anchorage we all waved good-bye and blew kisses while our friends all stood on their boats’ decks and did the same. There were tears, of course.

We sailed to Green Turtle and docked at their lovely marina, went inside to their elegant gift shop, and found the customs desk where a very grumpy woman did our paperwork. It was kind of ironic after all this time in the Bahamas, where we had fallen in love with the islands and the people. We were a little anxious about making the weather window, so rather than dawdling on Green Turtle we met Ripple outside the marina, and transferred Charlie to their boat so we could begin our journey home. He, Spencer, and Elliott had created Harry Potter wands the night before; Charlie accidentally dropped his into the water as we pulled up to Ripple, so he courageously jumped in to rescue his wand and then board his family’s boat. Boat kids are cool like that.

We motored up to Pensacola Cay for one last beach stop for Morris and our family before we embarked on 28 hours on the water. As we dropped anchor at the stunning, pristine island Spencer asked, “Well this is perfect… why don’t we just stay here for a while?” We didn’t have a great answer for him except that we had obligations to go home. We boarded the dinghy for the last time and walked on the beach for the last time and found a sea biscuit to take home as a souvenir. We spotted some beautiful, tiny, healthy corals growing there… someday, hopefully, they will become a reef.

We pulled up the anchor for the last time, and literally sailed into the sunset. There was a very clear green flash after Jackson blew his conch at sunset. I could not believe that there would be no “next”. No next islands, no next passages, no next excursions to plan and look forward to. I began a sort of grieving process, without realizing it at the time. This has been my favorite version of our family. We have done challenging and beautiful things on this adventure, we have laughed, fought, danced, cried, learned, loved each other, made friends, made mistakes, and found strength and spirit that I hope stay with us forever.