Can a boat make you fly?

My boat. She's a kayak, and she's my paddling buddy. Heh.

I can't recall a single piece of gear ever thrilling me like this does. Buying a bike didn't make me dance. Climbing gear? Cool, but not the same. Snowboard? Close. Skate skis? Sadly, no. My first boat? YEEEEEEEEEE!

It must be in my blood. My Dad loved being on the water, and had a wonderful 24-foot Crestliner for years. Later, he had a Bass boat, and would talk his friends into letting him skipper their boats, too, in exchange for puttering on the engine, treating the teak wood, offering fishing lessons, whatever it would take to get on their boats and play: motorized or sailing, big or small.

Some of my best memories are of being on a boat with Dad. We would get up at 3:30 in the morning and head out to sea, eager to reach the "Hundredth Fathom" mark, an imposing tower looming out of the depths, letting us know we were 100 miles from shore. There we would sit, in the Gulf Stream, watching whales, sharks, sail fish, mahi mahi, flying fish, and the dance of the water for hours.

He died two years ago, and I still think of him often. He got to meet my daughter, but not my son. Maybe that's part of the attraction too- I don't know- but suddenly this little kayak makes me feel closer to Dad. I think I finally understand the joy it brought him as an adult, which is a different shade of the same pleasure I felt as a kid.

I have my first boat. I love writing that. I'm giddy. Not only am I closer to water for it, but I'm closer to my dream. She isn't just a boat, she is my wings.