I was ready to leave the boat. My work was done and my bags were packed.

I swung my seabag over on to the dock, took one last look at the Mezza Luna as she sat contented in the marina.

Peter walked me half way up the long dock. We shook hands and said our good-bys. It seemed like a shallow gesture. I wasn't sure why, but I suspected that as competent and helpful as I had tried to make myself during our association, I was after all, just crew.

We had met as strangers and had played our respective roles of captain and crew as best we could but in the end, we were still strangers. Would he ever ask me to crew with him again? He offered no hint that that was in his plans. Would I sail with him again if he offered? I offered no hint to that as well.

So we departed.

The trip home was long but blessedly uneventful. At least I didn't have to go through any customs. My wife had arranged my return flight because I was having trouble making the arrangements on my iPod. I had stop-overs in Miami, Pittsburg, and Chicago before finally landing in Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

My wife was there to meet me at the airport. Home the sailor from the sea. I had been gone 28 days and covered 1895 blue water miles. I was glad to be home but I knew that after a couple of months of domestic routine, I would be checking out Crewseekers again, looking for my next sailing opportunity. My wife knew it too.