Eulogy for a Boat

Twenty-four hours before Irma struck Tortola, I knew our boat was doomed. “We’re going to lose ,” I told my husband, Scott. We watched in horror as Irma gained strength on her unforgiving trajectory toward our island of Tortola and the beautiful Tayana 48, , that we called home. We were on our annual “low season” trip back to Chicago to visit friends and family with our three young daughters when the Atlantic basin gave birth to Irma. As the hurricane gained velocity and strength, we became glued to the weather models, hoping, praying for a change in forecast. Days were spent tracking her every move with a growing pit in our stomachs. Helplessly watching a record-breaking hurricane barrel toward your home was no different.