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.”It’s quite idyllic. Mom’s got a playlist of what she calls her ‘Sail Away’ songs. I’ve got them on my iPad. I asked her many times why she never acted on the sentiment.“By the time I was old enough,” she told me one time, “I was married and mother to YOU. Kinda puts a damper on unrealistic dreams.”And now I’m living Mom’s ‘unrealistic dream’. Okay, WE are living the dream.We’re also making ninety miles of progress each day towards Key West. And on the second day... We have a marine band radio. Several of them, actually, one permanently installed in the pilothouse with an antenna stuck on top of the mast, and three handhelds. Lots of people call those ‘walkie-talkies’. They work on the VHF marine band, which is basically line-of-sight, so that antenna on the mast, way up over the water, gives it good range.It’s on all the time, too. We always monitor Channel 16, the marine emergency channel, and our primary constantly scans the other channels for traffic. Channel 13 gets a workout. Let me give this some thought and talk to my wife. You know I’ve got two babies to think of.”“Good luck, Terry. Let me know soon so I can get to work. Remember, when you work, I get paid.” She rang off and I sat staring at the phone. I heard a thump upstairs and Shelly started crying. She was seventeen months old and still got her head too far in front of her when she started running. There were a lot of thumps and cries. Billy, at six months was doing his best to emulate his big sister and was already pulling himself up on the furniture. I went upstairs.There was no trail of blood, so I assumed everything was okay. Shelly was plopped in the middle of the floor and Billy was crawling toward her as fast as he could.“Daphne?”“Oh, Terry. Come and help me please.” I ran to the kitchen and found Daph sitting on the floor with potatoes scattered all over the room. “I dropped the bag.” I laughed at her and she joined me as I got down on my hands and knees to start gathering potatoes. Each.
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