David left to return to Australia a couple of days ago. His flight left at “way too early” o'clock out of Boston and Lin, Nick and I drove him to the airport. We dragged ourselves out of bed in the middle of night and braved the icy cold, dark night to make sure we got him to his flight on time and to hug him goodbye.
He'd packed two huge duffels crammed full of boat parts that he lugged behind him. A burgeoning backpack on his shoulder and a jammed-full carry-on on the other shoulder completed my last image of him as he disappeared through the Virgin Australia departure gate. My heart skipped a beat and then an overall sadness took hold. Lin made small talk on the way home; I was already missing him.
Now, in all fairness, we talked about his leaving before Christmas before he booked his ticket. We had never planned to spend this much time in the States and getting back to the boat and our lives is a priority for us now. David's argument for returning early was compelling: the flight was considerably cheaper than after Christmas; he could get a head start on finishing up the fridge and galley projects; and most importantly, he wouldn't have to listen to me complain about the fact there was no sink, no stove and no fridge in the galley. All valid points with which I agreed … then. But now, watching him walk away and knowing we'll be apart for the holidays makes those arguments less compelling.
On the positive side, we'll Skype daily and he'll apprise me of his progress. I'll get to celebrate Christmas with my sister and my mom which I haven't done in years. And I'll depart just after the New Year to join him on the boat … which will have a working galley again. It'll be a long couple of weeks.