Missing the Boat

We narrowly escaped buying a boat last night. I was cozily lying propped up on pillows in our bed, happily reading for the hundredth time "The Diary of a Mad Housewife" when my cell phone rang, not five minutes after Keith had said good night and rung off.

"Where are you?" he asked, in this Voice. (He was hoping that I was still officially up and would go downstairs to look at this marvel of a boat. When I did anyway, he said in wonder, "You do love me!')

He began to talk about this boat he had found. One of my husband's hobbies is to cruise around on the Internet looking for vehicular bargains, so I am used to hearing him get all excited about the prospect of this boat or that truck.

This time was different, this time his voice was full of the light of certainty. "It's our boat, honey," he said. "This is the one."

That was when I made my way down through the dark house to the office and logged on, so I could see this thing. She was a very pretty boat with sleek, clean lines. She had a cabin underneath with a bedroom and a kitchenette and a stainless steel grill. Basically, something that we could live in for a week on the water, and yet go very, very fast when we wanted to. As well as grill out. No wonder he was so excited.

We made some quick negotiations. No new house, we stayed in this one, and no buying a new car, mine was perfectly fine for now and all paid off. Done and done; as far as he was concerned, he was almost willing to trade in the ATV for the boat.

That's when I realized the burden of financial responsibility would be on me. I would have to walk in the bank and ask for a loan on a boat. How could I get a loan? Who even asks for that in this kind of economy? I'd never gotten a loan before, how does that even work?

"It'll have to be in my name," I said slowly, realizing it. "I'm buying a boat. I don't want to buy a boat."

"Aw hon, I'll buy it back from you as soon as I get back," Keith said with a grin.

I didn't even bother trying to talk him out of it, as I had down with other purchases, it was too clear that this was indeed the boat. And I had promised him one, before he deployed. In fact, the entire time he was in the air on his way over there, he was day dreaming about the boat he would buy on his return.

The turning point was when I dropped a side comment, not even thinking, about how I would miss having a lot of land for a vegetable garden.

"I'll call him back," Keith said immediately. "We won't get it."

"You're sure?" I asked, amazed.

"Yeah," he said, his mind made up. "You were ready to walk right into a bank and ask for a loan. No, I'm good. I want my kitten to have her garden, and it's just too stressful for you to have to manage all the finances on your own."

So he called the man back and told him the deal was off, unless the boat was still there when he got back from his deployment, and then sent me an e-mail thanking me for being so understanding and supportive about the boat. I then sat here, wondering again how it was possible that God had given me this man as my husband.

March has simply flown by, it feels like the days have slipped past me with the ease of taking a breath and letting it out. And yet I've been fully alive in each day, outside in it, watching each small change take place.

I wake up in the morning and the first thing I do is to hang off the back of the couch by the down stairs window and just dreamily look at the green grass growing thicker and taller in the front lawn. The dogs join me and I'm sure we make an interesting picture from outside, my head and the two girls, hanging over the couch, just looking at the great big world out there.

My geranium was hung outside for the first time yesterday, it was a gloriously hot and sunny day. That geranium has now lived almost a full year and has survived some close calls. As soon as we are free of the threat of snow (it might snow today), she will go right back out side for the rest of the summer, and I'll buy two more in hanging pots to decorate the edge of the deck roof.

I don't spend half as much time down here on line as I used to. I used to not even turn the computer off- I needed it on, and connected, or else I felt suffocated. The first thing I did in the morning would be to get up and check my e-mail, facebook and blog, and it would be the last thing I did at night.

Now sometimes an entire day can pass by without my even turning the computer on. I'm not doing anything exciting with my life, nor do I have some great social whirl of activities to keep me away. I don't know what it is. Sometimes it seems my entire life is lived on line and then there are long stretches of time where I'm so disconnected from it that I seem to be living in a different century.

When I look back at this month, I'll think mostly of being in the light, awash in it. And next week it will be April.