Now that March is past us, it’s been over a year since my boyfriend and I moved into our floating home. Since then, I haven’t gone a day without spontaneously declaring my love for our little Serenity out loud.
Being by the water is incredibly relaxing. I spent my entire summer on the deck, looking over the edge and into the water. I learned about jellyfish, and discovered that herons hang out in trees fairly often, and I even locked eyes with an otter or two. A cormorant almost bumped into my face once (clumsy cormorant). Living in a floating home really does put you closer to wildlife.
But it’s not just what lives in the water; it’s the water itself. It’s that silly feeling you get at high tide in the rain when you can’t help but think that the ocean is filling up. The rippling reflections that project the familiar movement of water onto the ceiling and walls, even when the blinds are drawn. The gentle movement of the house that only draws attention to itself during high winds or in the nearby passing of very big ships. It’s peaceful, and quiet, and it softens the edges of our lives.
Aside from that, it’s just life in a house. Our house. And I would only trade it for a million dollars if I could turn around and use some of that money to buy the house (and some sweet bathroom renovations) right back.