Rough winds

This time last year I reported that my husband took me sailing for the very first time in his little sail boat, designed really for one just person. We had perfect conditions that day for introducing me to the experience of sailing a small boat. I adored the experience and naturally enough, looked forward to a repeat experience this year.

Several times this summer I have looked out at the lake and said, "What a lovely morning to sail!" Then he'd say, "Let's wait for some wind." We repeated this exchange several times until one late afternoon recently he said to me, "Would you like to go for a sail?" "Sure," I replied. Yet, as the minutes wore on as we got ourselves together the rather wild wind was starting to worry me. My dawdling got to him. "Look, do you want to go sailing or not?" "Well, do we have to go on such a windy day?" He was clearly agitated with me that I wasn't the fearless sailing companion that he had in mind and I felt a bit of a flop.

The next time he suggested we go sailing, I expressed no hesitation whatsoever. Off we went down to the lake and whilst he put the sail up, I watched it go crazy in the wild wind. The wind was causing a whistle in the air and frankly, I didn't think it at all a great idea. However, I wasn't going to hear the same speech about what a wuss I was, and off we went. From the moment we left the shore it was clear that the peace and serenity I experienced last year was not going to be repeated this day.

"Sit in the middle of the boat. The middle!!!! Come over the other side. Quickly!! Duck you head. Get down!! Okay, now put the wood in the slot. Do it! Further down. That's it. Now, lean back. More! Get more in the middle!"

I am used to very minute and specific instructions as to how to load a dishwasher let alone how to sail a small boat in intrepid conditions so I was not at all surprised by these commands.

"Oh shit! That was dumb. We haven't got life jackets on."

I could feel us change course.

"Are we going in?"

"Yep."

I watched him gather life jackets from the speed boat and realized with a sinking stomach that he intended to proceed with the mission.

"Are we going back out again?"

Sigh.

"Don't you want to?"

"Wellll, it is pretty rough out there..."

"Do you want to or not? Speak your mind, girl."

"I think it is too rough for me."

"If you aren't coming, I'm going on my own."

"Perhaps that is best."

"Fine."

I got off.

"I'm sorry..."

"Yeah, yeah..."

I watched him leave without me, trying to find my nerve to say I'd changed my mind. Yet, my life preserving instinct was in full force.

"It wasn't meant to be this way," he said as he ventured out, clearly disappointed with me.

I watched him leave with heavy heart, berating my scared soul.

When I saw him returning an hour or so later, I came down to meet him. Anything to regain the connection...

"How was it?"

"It was bloody rough out there. I capsized."

"Ohhhhhh"

"It was much too rough for you."

"Ohhhhh?"

"Yes. Much better that you didn't come."

Did we discuss his agitation with me? No. Did I point out that I was right and he was, well...wrong? No. We simply enjoyed the reconnection, or whatever you like to call it.

For well over 30 years I've been receiving instruction from my guy. He instinctively takes it upon himself to instruct me about anything and everything; from pulling the sheet up higher when I make the bed to how to handle a complicated business transaction and everything in between. (Don't get me started about my role of navigator and his, the driver. Just don't get me started...!)

And there it is; a dynamic set in stone; a dynamic that will never change. He's the Captain. I'm merely a lowly sailor who sometimes oh so tactfully, sets the Captain straight!