“What are we going to do for your birthday, Leslie?"

“Hmmm....I don't know..." Our friends had been asking me this for a couple weeks prior the big day, and I’d been dragging my feet in making any sort of plans. A hike maybe? A beach day maybe? Dinner at a restaurant? Sail out and anchor somewhere nice? A direct sail to South Africa?

…

…

. . .

Something about the overall picture of 2020's unpredictability and indecision bled itself into my birthday celebration, and I left everyone in the lurch with no answers about what I wanted to do. Any of it sounded fine, all of it would be nice, none of the options offered me the “sugar-hit" I most crave: The feeling I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing.

We've hit this style of personal stagnation a couple times in the course of this adventure. I'm familiar with its discomfort, and it always causes me to question my place in reality. The slower than planned Pacific crossing, the keel bolt repair, and now Covid - each of these situations placed choices in our lap, and those choices would lead us further down one path or another, paths that are turning out to be more and more uncharted territory of our lives. I'm beginning to believe the lesson I've been sent here to learn is how to accept the hard to pinpoint forces of ambition, planning, discipline, fate, surprise, and reality that influence the way my life is taking shape. What better time than your birthday to have an existential crisis?

As luck would have it, Susan wanted to go to Kafe Kreole for a beach day and lunch that coming weekend (and that sounded quite lovely to me), and I found a “Birthday Twin" among our sailing pack who had already ordered a lemon and rosewater layer cake for her own birthday dock party. “Birthday Twin!" she says, so generously, “you can share my birthday cake!"

And so, it was settled. I didn't have to make any decisions at all.

On what I like to refer to as “Birthday-Eve” the crewmates from the group of ships now commonly known as Three Amigos by our friends, The Three Muskateeers by our enemies, or The Last of the Maldivians if you prefer all loaded into a caravan of our tiny rental cars now kept on a monthly contract. We swooped along the coastline road to arrive at Kafe Kreole around mid-day where we found one of our favorite little restaurants with a perfect beach vibe, well thought-out ambiance, and an authentic Italian Chef named Vitolio spooled out freshly made pasta and perfectly cooked pizza dough while the Seychellois in charge of Octopus Curry tossed his onions, ginger, and curry powder in the back kitchen.

“Oooh, it’s so hard to decide!” I say, contemplating all the amazing options while a cool beach breeze kisses my Birthday-Even cheek.

I opt for the Octopus Curry (The Official National Dish of the Seychelles), then state my intention aloud that we shall return for another trip to have Vitolio’s fresh linguini. Andrew orders pizza, and we all share a bottle of white wine. For dessert, I take the risk on a molten lava cake - which in my opinion is one of those deserts that is never average: it's either a total miss or absolutely devine. As luck would have it, this molten lava cake with a small scoop of coconut ice cream fit my demands perfectly.

Once we were pleasantly full of birthday lunch, we moved the party out to the Bacci ball field where the crews of the three boats put each other to the ultimate test. Who would go first?

No rock paper scissors for the Scozzy of our group, he demands Andrew compete in “Cowboy, Bear, Ninja" instead.

“You turn your back on each other and on the count of three jump and face your opponent." Pete explains.

“Okay, how do we know who wins?”

“The Bear eats the Ninja, the Cowboy shoots the bear, the Ninja beats the Cowboy up with his numchucks.”

“Obviously...”

1, 2, 3!!!!

Having that decided, Pete and Jen played against Mark and Susan first. Mark and Susan are the reigning bacci ball champions, as they are the ones who own the bacci ball set. Tensions run high as Pete and Jen watch Mark and Susan advance with points until…. Jen took the ball in hand and revealed herself to be an absolute ringer who can hold up even the worst of teams.

Mark and Susan fall to Jen’s skills, then Andrew an I were handily defeated by Jen. The winner clearly decided, the Oddgodfreys then had to play Mark and Susan to determine the biggest loser.

Oddgodfrey for the win!...

…of the title biggest loser.

Andrew tries really hard, though, especially when measuring exactly by how far we lost.

Andrew also became employed as the "Tropical Zamboni:” perfecting a key technique necessary to keep the bacci balls rolling smoothly.

Round two, we played girls against boys, and while Susan and I can be described as inconsistently competent, Jen held our team to a higher standard, and we beat the boys. The intensity of this game even drew an audience.

We capped off this afternoon with drinks on the beach next to a string of locals who had been fishing, or riding their bikes, or just there to watch the wave runners speeding along on races with no start or finish line we could identify. Kids rolled around in the surf, and dragged their brothers to and fro - because isn't that what you do at a day on the beach?

Everyone made fun of me for packing my lemon-ginger soda water cocktail in an old pickle jar, but it was the perfect shape and size for fitting all that crap in there!

It was...excepting only the missing contingent of my beloved family and friends back home...a perfect day. Fate and friendship kept it rolling for me, despite my indecision.

The morning of my birthday, though, I wake to one point of absolutely awful news. A good friend whom I love dearly is facing a health challenge that altered her life in an instant. This adds to an already thick layer of sadness over the realities of mortality, having just learned of another friend who just days prior received a terminal liver cancer diagnosis.

"Life is not predictable; you have to be grateful for what you get." I say to Andrew, mulling over the news in combination with my lingering frustrations that our plans and schedule is halted again for an ill-defined future.

In an effort to cheer me up, Andrew revealed his big plan for my birthday present: an Oddgodfrey “time capsule art piece" to be painted behind the wood in the newly varnished v-berth.

“Aw! Babe! What a sweet idea.”

Ever since he tore everything apart to fix the leak, Andrew had been plugging away at what can only be described as the remodel of Sonrisa’s “Master Suite” a.k.a. the “V” Berth (named as such for obvious reasons. He tore out all the shelving, removed everything from the walls, purchased all new wood that smells of Seychellois jungles, sanded, varnished, and now he was almost ready to put everything back on.

We spent the morning designing and drawing each of our crew members, an artistic rendition that captures the essence of the Oddgodfrey crew, don't you think?

I made more coconut nougat with full intention of undergoing a self-induced sugar coma.

And then we made our way to attend the Birthday Dock party where we all enjoyed a fabulous 10 layer lemon cake with rosewater tinged icing and rehashed, among other things, our plans for sailing onward (or not). “South Africa is open to tourism!” The fleet readying their ships rejoice.

That night, I lay my head on my pillow, a newly minted 39-year-old only half-way around the world on the round-the-world sailing adventure that we'd planned to complete about now. The situation has me feeling nostalgic for the days I enjoyed the illusion that I could control my fate.

“It's weird," I say to Andrew as I lay curled on my side to leave space for 6’3” Andrew and the cat at our feet. “I’ve always felt like I could make my life into whatever I wish. But the older we get, the less that feels true. Whether it is true or not, I don't know, but it feels less true.”

"Oh yeah?" Andrew says, still enjoying his youthful vigor of age 38.

“Yeah, I am scheduling my mid-life crisis for 43.”

“Okay,” he says.

I lay in the dark trying to put my finger on what this feeling is. It seems important to understand, somehow. It get the sense it has to do with my relationship with freedom, self-actualization, my relationship with fate, and the shape my life is taking. There are some decisions you can't take back; taking one route precludes all the others for the present moment. We can change course later, sure, but we all have limited time in our lives and limited numbers of course changes before the opportunity to shape our lives close. I have a tendency to work more than one avenue, “keeping my options open,” but indecision can morph itself into a rouge wave of momentum, and eventually you are swept into commitment whether you put yourself there or allowed it to happen. But, with all that, here we are in the Seychelles and it’s a beautiful place to be.

Under the moonlight, I can see the outlines of the drawing we made on the wall. The “Oddgodfrey Crew,” and I smile. This portrait looks different than it might have, save for a whole lot of strange decisions I’ve made along the way. It also looks different due to the influence of fate. (Wave “hi” Katherine Hepburn!) All we can ever do is roll with it, and enjoy the results of the life we make from what is on offer, as best we can.