Raising my glass

We're having a wonderful time, but it's not the same as we remember.  It's still beautiful.  The weather has been almost perfect.  (Because perfection is boring, there have been occasional squalls.)  But it's not the same.

I'm sitting here, at the Cooper Island Beach Club, where Steve remembers having his first Painkiller, and says I first ate parsnips. (Really? Yes, I loved them.  Crazy to travel so far to find something so common, eh?)  This is where we sat with friends, where we sat with Captain Bill, who always had a story to tell. 

There, there it is.   Capt. Bill.  This is the first time we've been to the BVI without him.  And, it's not the same. 

It's friends that we remember most.  So many times on this trip we've turned to each other and said "Wouldn't ____  love this?"  or "I wish we could show this to the _____ family."  I am loving the time with Steve and the boys.  We're so grateful to have this opportunity.  But it's not the same.  We are missing our friends, ones we will see again, and ones we won't.

Today is Friday, and I raise my glass to "A willing soul and sea room", but I shall also pretend it's Sunday, and have a drink for Bill, and to you, "Here's to absent friends."

Traditional Royal Navy Toasts:

Monday: Our ships at sea.
Tuesday: Our men.
Wednesday: Ourselves.
Thursday: A bloody war and quick promotion.
Friday: A willing soul and sea room.
Saturday: Sweethearts and wives, may they never meet.
Sunday: Absent friends and those at sea.