Guy lives on a sailboat in another country eight months out of the year, and we don’t get to see each other as often as we’d like. But I never feel disappointed, I feel lucky. I’ve never run across anyone like him before, so I’m going to see where our journey takes us.

When morning comes, I’m flying to Cabo San Lucas to spend three glorious weeks with Guy. I’m going to let him take care of me and share his world of ocean and sky and dolphins surfing the bow wave and the power of the wind. And I’m going to love him the best way that I can, because I’m really good at this, and there is nothing in holding me back.

We haul the mainsail up first, look to see what the streamers are doing in the wind and at the knots we’re getting. The breeze is steady from the east-southeast, so we unroll the genoa until its generous belly fills, kicking our speed up a notch. The boat heels at a 30-degree angle, but it’s holding steady, and in the bright January sunshine of a Mexican morning, I can feel the power tugging firmly at the wheel.

I hold Sapphire on course and watch in excitement as we hit 5.8, then 5.9, then 6 knots. We are flying over the indigo sea. The wind nudges the boat up to 6.3 knots. We’re racing, almost skating over the water. Even with this wind, there isn’t much swell yet, so it’s every sailor’s dream.

I stand with my legs wide apart, one foot perched on each of the benches, so I can see over the dodger in front of me. I’ve got a good grip on the wheel. I haven’t smiled like this in years—in too long to remember.

I am not a bit afraid, even though I really have no idea what I’m doing. But it’s a good day with good wind, and Sapphire is a good boat. Under full sail on a sunny day, she’s a beautiful sight on the blue water. We never stop moving. Sometimes, it’s all we can do to stay upright.