During a family gathering in Ohio one Christmas, my Floridian aunt mentioned that her neighbor had offered his place for any visiting guests. Like so many northern snowbirds, Aunt Marie had landed in a quaint trailer park community on Anna Maria Island. Her generous neighbor, who rarely alighted for more than a few weeks a year, wanted to repay her for keeping an eye on his property, and she extended his offer to us in the hopes that we'd come visit.

Fast forward a few months and I met the end of yet another work contract. Unemployment in the Midwest meant projects were becoming more difficult to find and taking me further afield. Mix in the depressing gray slush of deep winter, and it was a scene ripe for change.

"I'm sure I can find work in Florida much easier than here. And we have a free place to live while we look for a boat and sell the house. Let's do it!" I encouraged Don, who was fortuitously in full agreement.

So the die was cast. My full time job became clearing out our household possessions. Most were sold on EBay, some were donated, much was gifted, a bit was left on the curb. Before long the walls echoed back and the lightness of being took hold. Then I awoke in the dead of night with a start!

"What if the boat isn't in Florida?!"

THE boat was a concept Don and I innately understood. We wanted a comfortable vessel to make into our home. One that felt habitable rather than tolerable. She had to be small enough for each of us to handle, sturdy enough for us to feel safe, and lovely enough for us to be in love. Oh – and we wanted to be able to pay for her outright. We knew we'd feel it when we stepped onboard.

So we started looking for our perfect ship with a trip to Annapolis. While there, we were able to get a good look at the different types of vessels that met our criteria, and narrowed our search. Our first consideration was a Westsail 32, but once we inspected one we just didn't feel the affection. Although many people are living aboard and cruising the world in these admirably built vessels, it just didn't arouse us the way we had hoped.

After more searching through the seaports of Baltimore and Newport, and touring other makes and models, the Hans Christian 33T became our dream boat. But ships on the market were well outside of our price range and I feared we'd have to settle on a lesser vessel.

Then, during my daily perusal of boats for sale on the internet, I landed on a Yachtworld ad. A 1985 HC33T with a price so minuscule I half assumed it was wrong. In fact, the low listing concerned me greatly; did this lady have some serious structural issues? Was her deck rotting? Was her engine shot? Was she retrieved from some watery depths? I almost passed her by, but figured it wouldn't hurt to make a call.

The broker immediately redirected me to their site for additional information, and that's how I discovered the vessel had been repossessed. I was further delighted to discover their site listed an even lower asking price than the one displayed on Yachtworld! I felt it was just another spontaneous fulfillment of desire in a life full of purposeful creation.

I gathered in looking through the rest of their inventory that this bargain boat was a red-headed step child of sorts – a stout, little sailing vessel amongst a collection of big, fancy power yachts.

"They don't know, or they don't care about what they have!" I thought.

It was just a 9 hour drive from Northeast Ohio to Pawcatuck, Connecticut where she sat waiting. I wasn't working so my time was my own. I'd go take lots of pictures to show Don, and see if it was a boat worth pursuing. All the stars seemed in alignment. I began to hear her call and couldn't wait to answer.