Taking the plunge

The combination of anxiety and excitement was almost too much to be contained. I tried to be cool around the boatyard guys, for whom launching a boat is not an extraordinary prospect. They took the activity seriously—they are moving a 30,ooo-pound vessel through the air—but their minds were not blown by the idea. Mine was. All kinds of imagined disasters were playing on my internal video loop: water spouting up through all the various holes we’d made in the boat; the travel-lift’s straps failing and Billy slipping only to smash into smithereens. Not to mention the nerves facing our own changing forms. We’d been driving each week between March to August from Gloucester to Portland to work on the boat. By launch date we were weary from this commute—but we had a routine. Portland is a delight, our friends are welcoming and engaging, we’d established a benign tolerance from the boatyard guys. Now we’re heading off into parts unknown, and the change is not entirely comfortable. It’s all well and good to have a dream and work toward it, but what if we don’t like it?