sailing.

I don't know how to sail, but I'd like to. There's something satisfying about learning a wholly new skill and when it comes with its own special set of vocabulary, all the better. There's so much satisfaction in learning when to use new words, trying them out, seeing how they roll off the tongue or get stuck there.

I'd buy a small wooden boat and paint it a cheerful coat of white so that it gleamed. All alone, I wouldn't notice that my hair was getting matted or my cheeks were getting ruddy. There'd be too much else to pay attention to.

I'd fly a patchwork flag from the top of the mast and count up the barnacles on the boat bottom as prizes. If I was feeling generous, I'd bring along a friend, but mostly I'd set out for watery ambles by myself. A boat of one's own, you might call it.

...

On Saturday, James and I rebooked our anniversary sail and sat under a drizzly grey sky while a double rainbow arced its way across the city. It felt good to get rained on. Especially surrounded by all that glimmering gold.

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