On homes, anchors, and getting from place to place

 

We have plans to move to Virginia in the nearish future. We’ve had these plans for a while, and somehow that future seems to never get any nearer. Target dates for getting our house on the market have come and gone. I’ve even applied for jobs in the area we’d like to settle in, thus far to no avail.

Several  people have told me that I’m a very patient woman, presumably because I never became a homicidal maniac during the long wait for a fully functional kitchen in my house.  I like to think that I made the best of it, and didn’t complain too much, but in truth, I know that I did complain and gripe and play the martyr more than I’d like to admit. I try, but patience is still oh so hard. I mean, who can even deal with a slow internet connection anymore?

The truth is I find the wait to move so much harder than waiting for a kitchen, and feeding our family for years without a kitchen sink – nevermind the rest of the kitchen – was pretty darn hard. Because when you know you want to go make roots somewhere else, the place where your house is just doesn’t feel like home. Sometimes our rate of progress feels so slow and I just feel stuck.

We got stuck once, in Green Eyes. We ran aground on our way out of Brenton Bay and got stuck for real. Luckily it was at low tide, but we were really close to a marker on our starboard side and afraid that when the tide rose and freed us, we might drift into it. Alan rode out to the other side in the dinghy with an anchor. He set the anchor then ran that line through a winch so it had plenty of tension on it. There was nothing to do but wait.  I read my book and napped a bit, the kids played. Eventually, the combined forces of the tension from that anchor and the slowly rising tide pulled us free and we were able to continue to our destination. It was actually a nice, relaxed morning after the initial flurry of activity to get that anchor set.

We are setting an anchor now that will help pull us to Virginia, I’m sure. We are keeping our new boat, Tipsy Lady, at Stingray Point Marina in Deltaville, VA. It will be an inconvenience I’m sure to have to drive that far to spend time out on the boat. It will also be a source of tension: a constant pull in that direction. And things will keep falling into place on the other end. We will get the house prepared for sale; the tide will rise at its own pace. When the time is right, we’ll break free of the muck and proceed to our destination. Just maybe that little bit of reassurance will help me do patience a little better in this last leg of the wait. Maybe I’ll learn to relax and enjoy this moment.

Then again, even if I’m not really any more patient, at least we’ll get to spend lots of time down there in the meantime. Perhaps it will placate my impatient nature enough to help me leave off the nagging and snarky comments. I’m sure Alan hopes so.

Here’s Tipsy Lady at her new home at Stingray Point. You can see the Stingray Point lighthouse in the upper left background through the trees.

IMG_0896[1]I have to say that so far we absolutely couldn’t be more pleased with our new marina. We were made to feel so incredibly welcome, and it is just beautiful there – and very sheltered from the wind, which was a very good thing when we came in yesterday. The place is definitely loved and we are excited to be a part of the community there.

I also love the connection to history there. I have a huge history nerd crush on John Smith, and he is the one who named Stingray Point – after he was stung there in an incident that nearly killed him. Only nearly. He was a resilient guy.

 

2 thoughts on “On homes, anchors, and getting from place to place

  1. Loved reading this. You nailed the feeling and gave me goose bumps. You know I’m in a similar place. I need to make a vow to love the moment and recognize the beauty of where I am at while knowing within that I am headed someplace new. You will get there and it will make all the effort and the wait worth it.

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