Ponderings

Sunday's skies: cloudy. Sky and sea melded into still soft gray. Uncanny. Eyes strain to find the horizon that isn't there.

Undaunted we threw our rain jackets into the back of the car and set off to explore the area around Nanoose Bay, just north of Parksville.

A walk through a marina proved irresistible to Tim, and so we tramped the docks together, admiring sailboats, wondering about the fuel budget for the speedster boats, and breathing in the sea air. I took photos.

The marina was almost deserted save for the boats lined up in their slips, silent and waiting. 

But, as we strolled along the last finger, an older gentleman approached. We greeted him with a smile, intending to pass by.

"You two look happy," he said. "You must own a sailboat!"

"We did," we replied, "but we sold it a couple of years ago."

"I had a boat," he said. "I sold it yesterday. I built it myself and poured time and money into it. It was my dream."

"Why did you sell it?"

"See these dark glasses? I'm developing glaucoma. I can't see well enough to be out on the boat by myself. You know, I think I shed a few tears last night, thinking about my boat."

Dreams come and dreams go. Sometimes we let go of them willingly, their purpose fulfilled. 

Other times, dreams are snatched away from us by any number of reasons - health, death, finances, changing priorities.

The death of a dream is often difficult. Something is taken away. Whether the dream is big or small, loss ensues. Grief takes the dream's place. Bewilderment, questions follow. 

After leaving the marina we climbed Natch Hill. Here we viewed the undulating coastline from distance. We saw a bigger picture. Our perspective had altered. 

Old dreams die. They are treasured and remembered, but other dreams come to take their place. New vistas are explored. In time.