The Anchor
A Christmas Eve memory from the year the world stood still.
I am sending this story a day early because I know tomorrow belongs to family, food, and beautiful chaos. Think of this as that one quiet gift you get to open on Christmas Eve, a moment of stillness before the festivities begin. I hope it finds you well.
We didn’t know what was coming next. Nobody did.
It was Christmas Eve, 2020. We were docked near West Palm Beach, Florida, living aboard a 40’ Trawler we had bought in May. The world felt like it was teetering on the edge, borders closing, news cycles spinning, so we figured, why not live on a boat? If the world ended, at least we could untie the lines and sail away.
But the most important thing on that boat wasn’t the engine or the hull. It was the little guy in the Christmas sweater.
We had adopted Chase on July 3rd. He took to boat life with a funny sort of paradox. He loved the stillness of the dock because the open layout meant he could keep tabs on us at all times. He would sit in one spot, a fearless protector guarding us from the terrifying threats of passing Chihuahuas and Frenchies.
But when we left the dock? That was a different story. He hated the splash of the water. He despised going under bridges, barking at the echoes and the cars rumbling overhead as if scolding the noise itself. I spent those trips terrified he’d jump overboard, chasing a dolphin, a manatee, or even a floating stick. We had a life vest for him, but I still watched the fast-moving current with a knot in my stomach, worried the world was moving too fast for him.
But in that photo, taken five years ago today, everything is still.
He is wearing his festive sweater, guarding his toy, sitting on the back deck as the sun sets over a year that scared us all. Looking at him then, I realized I didn’t need to sail away to be safe. I just needed my crew.
I’ve had other dogs throughout the years, but this one grabbed ahold of my heart in a way I didn’t expect. In a year where we felt adrift, he became my anchor.
Wherever you are tonight, whether you are docked in a quiet harbor or weathering a storm, I hope you have your own anchor close by.
Happy Holidays.
-R. Michael
P.S. If you have a moment of downtime this holiday and want to share, I’d love to see who your "anchor" is. Feel free to drop a photo or a memory of your own co-pilot in the comments. But if you’d rather just close your phone and enjoy the quiet, please do exactly that.
Was just my response to your little anchor story, that I touched me so. Your vulnerability and willingness to share your struggles and triumphs are gifts that spark my own reflections. I find myself learning, growing and always turning the page with my head held high after I read your posts. Thank you for being a reminder that every journey, no matter how hard leads us back to ourselves. Leads us to be be a stronger, kinder, more resilient self because of the storms we've weathered. As they say... You can't control the wind, but you can adjust your sails. Happy Sailing My Friend.... Love you Lots... Always. BJ
The Silent Week
I know the rhythm of the world: My family and friends were busing returning gifts and planning for the New Year celebration. With that in mind I quietly stepped back, retreating into my self-imposed solitude that I go to at the end of every year. It's always easier to simply drift in the stillness, than to explain the unknown reasons for heavy silence in my heart.
This year however the calendar held a significant milestone. Tucked right in that quiet gap between the holidays, was my 60th birthday.
Six decades of life arrived without fanfare. There were no grand parties, no popping cords and no "someone special" to lean against as the candles were lit. My house was quiet, and my phone mostly still.
My Little Anchors
Yet, as I curled up in my favorite corner of my couch, the silence wasn't absolute. Curled up next to me were my 2 faithful companions who remained at my side, always reminding me that I was not alone. My 2 Anchors didn't know the significance of the number 60. They didn't know about the decade of "holiday funk"or the autopilot I use to get through the week.
To them, I wasn't a person missing out on a celebration; I was their world. As I reached over to scratch behind their ears, I realized that while the world outside was rushing toward the next big thing, I was held fast by 2 small beating hearts that didn't need a party to show me that I mattered.
The holidays had come and gone quietly, along with my milestone, but in the soft breathing of my puppies and the lingering warmth of my children's visit, I was still anchored and ready for the new year to come.
Not with the cliche of "New Year, New Me", but rather New Year, Better Me.
Happy New Year my Friend.... Wishing you all the best - BJ