Look at the picture: this is how I feel after 6 weeks on Peregrine. Water, land, sky, in the middle of nowhere—it could be anywhere—yet perfect in beauty. Dickie told me the other night that I seem happy. We pulled the word apart: happy has too many expectations attached to it, like having fun and so forth. Our expectations are simple: taking Peregrine back home, and hoping it goes without too much trouble.

Our life is plain. Early wake up in the cold, sliding into yesterday’s clothes, making coffee, starting the engine before 7:00, and voilà, another day on the way hoping new shoals won’t have formed into the channel. We are at the tail end of the migration south to the Bahamas, and it may be hours before we see another boat, and when we anchor, a few days before we speak to someone.  And here is a small miracle: for the first time in my life, I don’t feel the need to talk.

I told Dickie that “content” would be the word for what I feel. No small gift after this last year. He just nodded and smiled.