Monday was a beautiful day where I live. After weeks of hot, humid, still days, we were rewarded by Mother Nature. The temperatures were in the upper seventies to low eighties with low humidity and pleasant breezes. By mid-afternoon I knew what I wanted to do. I called my husband at his workplace and asked, "How would you like to go for a nice evening sail?" "Would you go, too?" he asked. " Yes, I'd really love to," was my surprising answer. I haven't gone sailing much for the past couple of years because of the chronic pain I have from Fibromyalgia and arthritis.

Had I been bleeding profusely from a severed artery, he couldn't have arrived home any more quickly. I had filled our water bottles and changed into clothing that would protect my delicate skin from the sun. He had the outboard motor and other necessary gear shoved into the back of his SUV in record time, so I hurried to get into the vehicle. This is a major procedure for me because it sits much higher than my little car. After a few attempts I was finally seated, strapped into my safety belt and we were on our way to a nearby lake.

I really had forgotten how good it feels to glide across the water solely under the power of the wind against the sails. I had forgotten how much more fun it is than roaring up and down the lake in one of those huge, noisy, power boats whose motors have to drown out any meaningful conversations anyone on board them might try to attempt. And those jet skis? Really??? It doesn't look like a good time to me!
I can only imagine pounding across the water, motor blasting while one's rear is smashing onto the seat with every wave that it hits. Fun? I don't think so.

As the sun sank slowly in the west, we knew our evening sail must end soon. We had enjoyed not only the soothing motion of the boat on the lake, but we actually talked more than we have in ages. It was a rare moment in time for us. I honestly hated to see the sail end, and I told my husband so. I also told him that, like the sun, parts of me are fading fast. I am vainly aware of the fact that, while I was never a beauty, I have aged. His response was to take my hands in his and quote William Butler Yeats:

               "When you are old and gray and full of sleep and nodding by the fire,
               Take down this book and slowly read, and dream of that soft look your eyes had once
               and their shadows deep.
               How many loved your moments of glad grace and loved your beauty with love false or true?
               But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, and loved the beauty of your changing face."

The last line was delivered with a cracking voice and tears of sincerity, and received in the same manner. It was such a romantic gesture, from such a romantic man; the man with whom I have shared the past thirty-nine years. It's true that it hasn't always been 'smooth sailing' for us; but, ah, when we're on a good 'run'....