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a laughing, happy little one year old, on my shoulders as we wound our way along these
open trails. He would be perched thus aloft, babbling away to anyone who would listen,
grinning at the admiring hikers, and drooling continually down my neck.
One day, for the first time in a long time, Jude expressed a desire to go sailing again. I was
delighted, as I had felt that she had been losing interest in Déjà vu. We packed a picnic
basket, wrapped young Dylan in some warm clothing, complete with a little knitted bonnet
one of our moms had made, and, much to the delight of some of the club members, rowed
over to where Déjà vu waited on her mooring.
Dylan went wide-eyed and quiet when he saw all the boats and felt the movement of this
strange blue water. Judi clambered up the side, and I carefully passed our precious little
bundle up to her. She went below to change a diaper, as I busied myself with the sails. Soon
we were sailing out of the confines of the boat harbor, rounding the big stone breakwater,
and sailing briskly into the gentle rising and falling of the great rollers waving in from out
at sea. Judi had placed Dylan in his crib in the weak sunshine safely in the cockpit and sat
next to him with his bottle of “zoose” as he had begun calling his juice.
This was a dream come true. All three loves of my life were here with me: Judi, my sweet,
ever patient, and clever wife, always a source of energy and inspiration and love, along
with the son she had given me while almost losing her life doing so, and our dear sweet
Déjà vu, holding us safely within her stout lines, emanating true strength as she regally
moved up and down across the white capped waves. Seagulls, cormorants, diving frigates,
and huge cape albatross wheeled in and around the blue sky vying for attention, but today
our attention was focused on Dylan's well-being and our curiosity as to how he took to
sailing. He was wonderful; there were no signs of motion sickness and he displayed a very
keen interest in all the activity around him; he was especially fascinated with the rushing
water as it raced past the back of the boat. He laughed with joy as he pointed to the white
wake with his minute forefinger. He made a cute sight with his little blue and yellow baby
jumpsuit and pointy bonnet, which did little to hide his straw-yellow locks and his startling,
wide blue eyes.
Winter came with a cold blast from the Antarctic, and we were so grateful for our funny,
little stone fireplace in Bessie's cottage. The early, dark nights were cozy inside with this
waist-high fireplace crackling merrily away, pine cones snapping and spitting while the
bigger logs of hardwood slowly caught fire. The wind would force the icy cold wind
against the windows, and sometimes we could hear it howling and shrieking out in the
blackness, as branches scraped up against walls and windows. Judi and I would sit at our
two rocking chairs in front of the fire, sipping red wine that was so plentiful and excellent
in South Africa.
