The Bitter End

Smith, on our first sunny day going up the St. Lawrence.

Today is Smith's last day aboard the Marlin. It's bittersweet. I think she needs the time away. The way I needed to get away from my job in NYC. The way I needed that year on a sailboat. Maybe she doesn't need a year. But she needs to get away, so she can come back to another boat with her glass half-full; not empty.

But who will buy the ingredients for limoncello and put them on my counter at night because I said I could make it? Who will tell me after many meals, "This doesn't suck."? 

When I finally get around to making yogurt, she won't be here to participate in the process, and assess the results. The next time I get fixed up to go out on the town, who will give me that look like I'm a poser and I should know it? More importantly, who will be my line of communication with the aft cabin? Most of the time, Smith was how I knew about anything - my source of information about where we were going or when we might be anchoring - and of what Cap eats or doesn't eat! She was also of course the main source of sailing know-how for most of us.  

Nothing will be the same without her. We might get all soft and wiggly-washy. We might lose our edge. We are definitely losing our rock.