Summer in the southern United States, is a hot, humid and mostly stagnant time. Each afternoon is filled with thunderstorms and as they give way, the official bird of each state, the mosquito, checks in with as many warm-blooded creatures as possible.
The weather has taken a bit of a turn recently. It has been cooler; especially at night. Its sort of a false fall. We all know that 90 F temperatures will return, though not for as long nor as close to 100 as during July and August. As the days shorten, activity in marinas along the eastern seaboard intensifies. Sails are retrieved, systems checked and checked again. Chain is taken from the boat and marked, then returned to its locker soon to be nestled in sand. The list appears endless. But most, if not all, must be complete by the time our insurance overlords allow us to venture south.
I was performing some busy work at the house today when I felt a breeze on my face. After months of prevailing South and South West wind, a change had arrived; it was cool and from the Northeast. That change grabbed my attention, slapping me from my summer stupor. I felt the urgency instantly, “It was time to ready the boat”. I had the urge to travel to the slip and start that process; to feel and feed on the energy, as others ready their boats, too. There is an electricity in the air as anticipation intensifies. Some unable to contain their excitement slip the lines early. Each crew, one by one, departs and moves on. Ventolines pulls at her lines in her slip, like a thoroughbred in the gates ready to race.
Then, like the “ice bath” challenges from a few years ago, it hit me. Hard! For the first time in many years, Ventolines is not going south. Not stopping in St. Mary’s for “Cruisers Thanksgiving”. Not heading offshore with old friends. Not waiting in Ft. Pierce, or West Palm or the Keys for a weather window. Not gliding over sandy bottoms as we ply turquoise waters. Nor will we be spearing Hogfish in the Raggeds. This year, instead of the deck of our home, we navigate fall and winter, from the porch of our house.
We want to sail. But we must take a sabbatical from our sailing life to allow our family to be all it should be. We have a teenager that, though torn himself, wants a more normal teenage experience prior to going to college or whatever it is he decides to do as an adult. Jennifer and I support that choice.
Hopefully, we have not experienced our last passage as a family. But I can’t help feeling that this phase is over. I heard a statistic that is troubling to me, like every parent before: “75% of the time you spend with your children is complete by their twelfth birthday .” 
I am honored that I could spend almost every day over the last six years watching him turn from a boy into a man (well, almost). It cost a great deal and in retrospect, we would spend it all again, without hesitation.
The next time we point our bow south, for any serious passages, we will be empty nesters. Though, we hope that the man will travel with us when he can.