September 14, 2021
It is my birthday! No better way to spend it than with friends, out on the water on a beautiful day. We load up our kids, snug in their lifejackets, and motor out of the Rondout Creek. We pass families out for day sails, people fishing for striped bass, a couple of kayakers, and a nest of Osprey peeking their heads out at us. The fresh air brings me a sense of exuberance. It’s been such a tough few years with so little to celebrate, and so much retreating into ourselves and our worries. Being out in the late afternoon sunlight give us all a break from the oppressive worries and responsibilities of life ashore. We even yell to other boats and invite them into our moment of joy. “It’s My Birthday!” They wave back, now we are celebrating together, across the echoing waters.
The tide is very low and the current still ebbing out of the river. We turn the powerboat north and Cheryl guns the engine. All of a sudden, we are flying. Wind in my hair, on my cheeks, even blustering up my sleeves. We are alive!
Low tide means extra beaches to explore up near the beautiful Kingston-Rhinecliff Bridge. We cast anchor in shallow waters and wade over the side of the powerboat. Even the kids can reach the bottom, their arms held high to keep their t-shirts dry. The river bottom is surprisingly smooth ripples of beautiful sand here. No mud or rocks, just soft sand in tiny wavelets mirroring the surface of the water three feet above it. We wade all the way to shore and disperse. Each of us finding a different treasure to quietly observe. A smooth stone, a crab, some cordgrass, a giant log, and a quiet place to sit.
We are so lucky to be able to “run away to sea” and feel this sense of peace and freedom with our friends and family as the sun dips low over the Catskill Mountains behind us. We wade back to the boat quietly bobbing in the water, the current and switched, the tide is slowing rising. Our t-shirts get wet this time, but only a little bit. Back aboard, we raise anchor, pull on towels, and enjoy a picnic snack on our way back to the dock. Home before dark. Happy birthday to me!
