I'd sail away and never look back. I would bob along the coast, hop from island to island, making friends with the fish and the fishermen.
I'd live a life without my mobile phone. Without the Internet. With far fewer possessions than tie me down now.
I'd lie on the deck after the sun went down, watching the stars twinkle back at me. I'd sail into Plymouth on the second Tuesday and Wednesday of August and watch the fireworks over the Sound. I've always wanted to do that.
I'd learn to tie knots, when to duck, how to anchor, which way is port and which is starboard.
I'd learn to weather the storms. Because the storms in my life would be literal, not metaphorical, and no one could tell me they were just in a teacup.
I could run away whenever it all got a bit much. I would be able to stay away from the dramas. I could harden my heart to goodbyes, because I'd say them so often. Home would be my little boat, moored anywhere for the night. It would be expected for me to be external. When I was around, it would be an occasion, not an annoyance.
I could get away with wearing endless stripes, because that's what sailors do, and everything would smell of salt and sunshine.
I wish I had a boat.