Lying in my bunk, with the lights out I sense the sandman is not far away. Tiny waves slurp along the dock after their long fetch across the narrow passage. The wind creates an errie sound. Ever so gently Sass Sea rocks me back and forth.
It is almost midnight. Teddy, my faithful stuffed bear is snuggled in our home on wheels over in the parking. I know I am the only one on board my little ship. Sensing the arms that once held me keeps lonliness at bay.
Even without lonliness being alone is daunting. It makes me mindful of where I go, how I go and who I go with. It is a new lifestyle. My once carefree spirit took flight when widowhood arrived. What if I were alone at sea on a night like this? Do I have the stamina to weather a storm? I remember crossing the gulf stream about four years ago. I was on watch while my boyfriend slept soundly in his bunk below. It was a moonless night. Clouds muted an otherwise starry sky. When the wind switched direction a sail change was needed. I could handle the tasks by myself but hated the raucous that woke my tired crew. Auspicisouly a safety thought crosses my mind. What if I am asleep and my crew falls overboard? A difficult decision comes to mind. Do I sail alone without being responsible for a mate or do I sail with a mate to share the tasks?
Sharing the adventure has its lure. An argument for doing so presents itself. With or without a mate I will still be alone with my thoughts. And so, I ask the world, “What’s a woman to do?”