||| MIDNIGHT MUTTERINGS by JACKIE BATES |||

Unexpectedly off island for a few weeks, experiencing amazing convenience I never noticed when I lived in cities. Grocery store within walking distance, so it doesn’t matter if I forget something. Appointments just a few minutes drive away. Ditto bookstore and plenty of places to get an expensive latte. Pretty little parks with grass mowed by someone else. I could see the water in the distance from the top of a nearby hill.

Library just a few blocks away, with a FIREPLACE and comfy couch in front. But where was Holly or the other, lovely, familiar faces? Will the mainland librarians be in costume for Halloween? Where were the paintings by artists I actually know? Then I returned to Orcas. The ferry was 45 minutes late, and then there was the long drive to the other side of the Island, through the park, which is so gorgeous, even if I’ve seen it a thousand times.

Unpacked the car, checked to see if any of the neighbors were around. (They tend to disappear this time of year, sometimes for months.) Found there are plenty of blackberries in my weed lot garden. A little kale surviving dry weather and neglect. Quick walk on the beach at dusk, with the gibbous moon, the huge autumn waxing gibbous moon, escaping from behind Cyprus Island, lighting the water. Promising a full moon in three days. The beach: deserted, absolutely silent save the small lap of the water, until the heron made her outrage known. There’s nothing as startling as my own laughter when I’m entirely alone.

Maybe there’s a waxing gibbous moon to be seen from the mainland, but not from where I was. And I couldn’t smell the water in the distance or hear a heron’s curse. I’m in the mood to forgive the ferry’s careless ways and make my own damn latte. If only I had picked up milk on my way through Eastsound.

 

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