Five or more years after our sailboats were crushed by a collapsed barn roof, Dad brought home a new sailboat - a bright yellow tri-hull with three sails.
So far we have tried it out once, and we look forward to more sailing this summer.
What a joy to be on "our" old lake again - the lake where my paternal grandparents had a cabin for about 50 years; where I learned to swim and dive, to paddle a canoe and kayak, to row, and to sail.
This series of sailboat is new enough that we have the one-thousand-two-hundred-and-fourth Weta. They are designed in New Zealand and made in Indonesia, so our boat has already sailed across oceans, albeit in a container.
After a few years of research, Dad decided on this boat since it can be set up and launched by one person. But so far, we were glad to do much of the work as a team.
I am reminded of a poem my grandparents had hanging in their house:
One ship sails East,
And another West,
By the self-same winds that blow,
'Tis the set of the sails
And not the gales,
That tells the way we go.
Like the winds of the sea
Are the waves of time,
As we journey along through life,
'Tis the set of the soul,
That determines the goal,
And not the calm or the strife.
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