On Perfect Nights ... and the Particulars of this Perfect Night

This blog has featured a few perfect nights. They seem to come up often enough.

Some of these perfect nights have descended all warm and forgiving and have felt perfect and soft for no particular reason.

But tonight isn’t like that.

Tonight sits warm and forgiving, the harbor still and perfectly flat, the world quiet and suspended in something like a vibration of happiness. But tonight is not this way “for no particular reason.” No. A stairway of reasons account for tonight.

It’s warm.

I shot well and solidly today. I didn’t win today’s archery tournament, but I finished high (placements should be released tomorrow—then I’ll know for sure where I finished). I shot calmly, unemotionally. And there lies the victory.

Aboard our little boat, I have a husband who packs me snacks to eat during breaks in the competition, who rubs my back and carries my bow and makes sure I have diluted Body Armour to drink (because when I take it neat, it’s too sweet). I also have a little dog who wants nothing in the world more than to snuggle, to borrow under a blanket and watch me read.

We just finished watching a BBC version of Pride and Prejudice, the Bosun seeming to even enjoy it a little, though I know it was on only for my sake.

Earlier, we walked around the harbor, walked past people laughing on their boats, walked past people celebrating something with drinks and conversation that sounded content.

The Bosun had a glass of wine, and I had a sharp ginger beer. Now, I have a good book open.

So tonight does not feel perfect for no particular reason. It feels perfect for so many, but still very particular, reasons.

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