The feel

It's dark. There aren't even any stars to light the area around the boat because a cold front is moving in and the clouds are blotting them out. The tiny sliver of moon is making a futile attempt at breaching the fuzz of cirrus smudged over its pale light. There's a few dim lights shining out from curtained port holes on the boats around us and the horizon sports a few lights marking the docks of the other marinas on the sound. In the distance the breakers are clawing at the beach in their rhythmic song of the ages while conversation and the tinkling of glasses and dishwashing carry over the water from other boats on the sound, peppered by an occasional dog barking and a horribly confused rooster.  I briefly can smell a campfire. My sunburned arms are reacting to the cool breeze with goosebumps, and my feet are tired from walking the town today. It's been a good day today, a real cruiser sort of day, and it's a good feeling to sit here in the cockpit at the end of a day like this and realize with a smile that all those days and days and days of planning and working and refitting and practicing have culminated in this night.