I Almost Went Home Tonite

I almost went home tonight.

The plan was simple.

Stay in the marina.

On the boat.

A simple plan.

I wish I were a simple man — at least as simple as the one I think I’m chasing.

And maybe chasing is exactly the problem.

I like to think Buffett and boats are what calm me. That somewhere between the water, the music, and the gentle pull of a dock line, I finally give myself permission to breathe.

And maybe that’s true.

Because when I finally exhale, what I’m left with are words.

Words that sometimes I write.

And sometimes…I don’t.

They’re just words.

But when I get them out of my head and onto paper or a screen, each one feels like a small exhale of everything that builds inside.

The chase slows down.

The noise quiets.

And I’m able to stop and look around.

A marina does allow me to do that.

A bay.

A beach.

A boat.

A Buffett song.

They all, somehow and for some reason, allow me to push pause on a fast-forward world.

It’s only a pause, of course.

Because the world isn’t slowing down.

My girls are growing too fast.

Summers spent with them are finite.

That thought alone brings me a certain melancholy that I enjoy and deny at the same time.

None of this is really about St. Ignace.

Or Carp Lake.

Or missing Traverse City.

This is about time.

This is about playing one-on-one against myself.

This is about playing a game you can never win.

You can only play.