Here’s a little back story. One weekend, friends and I were taking in a band on Sunset Marina, the dock that regularly hosts the wildest parties on the water. I overindulged a bit in their hospitality and needed to escape the rowdy mob. So, I wandered the slips trying to find refuge when I saw a little boat that seemed to be abandoned. Upon closer inspection, I saw a “For Sale” sign, so I went up and found that the padlock on the front was broken. I slid open the door, sneaked to the bedroom, and pulled a Goldilocks. I slept like a baby angel until I was awakened by the desperate calls from my friends who’d decided to go home and realized I was missing. I said good-bye to my new boat friend and returned to my own marina.
The next morning I awoke in my own bed and realized that the little boat was the answer to my prayers. In 2012, I decided I wanted to take on the challenge of living on the lake for a full year, but there was no way our boat, Lakematized, could accommodate me, Frank, two dogs, and two cats. And, there was no way we could afford a houseboat large enough to do so. However, we could afford a small 1972 steel-hulled, Cumberland to house the cats, my office, and guests. My dream of lake life could become a reality.
We found out the owner was an elderly man who absolutely adored the lake and lived there until he passed. He had a cat. It was an omen. So, we bought the little boat that I hijacked that July night and named her The Muse. It soon became my haven. Upon stepping on board, I always felt engulfed by peace and safety. Whenever I couldn’t sleep, or was mad at Frank, or just feeling sad and angsty, I would go sit on that boat and let it rock the blues away. Whenever I had to stay here overnight all alone, I'd lock myself in and know that The Muse would protect me until morning.
Yesterday, with hardly any notice a man showed up to look at The Muse. He came back within three hours with cash and supplies so he could stay on it for the night. Selling a boat at this time of year is a huge blessing. I should be thrilled, but I’m so sad. It all happened so fast that I didn’t have a chance to say good-bye. I wanted to bask in the memories of all of the fabulous friends who made it their home for the weekend. I wanted to remember the "before and after" and take pride in all the work we'd done to her. I wanted to take one more nap on that little boat before letting her go.
Maybe I still can. After all, my relationship with The Muse started with trespassing. It should end that way too. The next time I know the new owner is out-of-town, I’m going to break back in, and give the little boat a proper thank you and farewell.