dark night, bright heart

i was going to stay in my car the whole ferry trip but i had to pee.  i do have to pee on occasion.  also i was surprised to hear on the announcements that they were serving some food in the cafeteria and i was having hunger pangs.  so i donned the mask and hiked the steep stairs to the passenger deck.  the ferry during covid is a weird looking place.  rows and rows taped off.  islands of people here and there.  at the cafeteria there are no trays.  the young man behind the counter was of east asian heritage and had his sleeves rolled up making it look like his uniform was  a muscle shirt.  it revealed a colourful tattoo on his bicep. "it's not a bad day to travel", he said conversationally as popped my burger and fries into a paper bag and handed it to me.  i sat at a lone table in a sea of taped off tables.  i watched people out on the deck.  it was a gorgeous day.  summer.  so summer.  

when i got back to the car i felt sleepy so i had a lay down in my back seat where all the blankets are piled up.  it first it was inexplicably uncomfortable.  i tried to ignore it.  but 46 year old bodies don't ignore as well as 26 year old bodies.  i investigated and fished my stepping stool out of the depths of the blanket pile.  the legs had been facing up into my back.  after that it was much better.  i dangled a bare foot out the window and was semi in and out of full consciousness, never fully sleeping.

on the drive to amy's house i passed many gorgeous scenes. i photographed them with my eyes.  low golden light making long grasses full of daisies glow neon green as they spilled out onto the road.  a deer munching idly off to the side.  sometimes the low light all but blinded me.  i had to drive forward slowly and tentatively, having faith that sight would soon be restored.

amy's house is a in an emerald glen.  there's a little crecent drive, with her big rusty truck sitting at one end. there's a large square cut out filled up with perfect round ends of little... logs?  i'll share a pic.  amy came out to meet me.  she took a shine to squish.  why wouldn't she?  i handed her two insulated bags with some food from my fridge that i brought with me.  random things like olives--did i say that i've been eating a few kalamata olives every day at breakfast? yummy.  i guess i finally officially like olives--thanks turkey.  it was you.  anyways i also brought a brick of tofu, half a block of aged white cheddar and the yummy mediterranean salad i had made the day before.  this version has big chunks of feta.  there is something luxurious about big chunks of feta as opposed to little crumbles.  i decided that.  it also has mint, cilantro and basil.  i couldn't leave such a thing behind.

amy led the way around the corner of her house up some steps built into the hill.  she padded easily up the gravel in bare feet.  when we reach her porch some stairs continue up a steeper hill to her landlord's treehouse.  we stepped inside and amy shared her little sanctuary with me.  it's small but spacious at the same time.  the ceiling is vaulted.  i was meant to sleep in the loft.  there's a narrow weird ladder that goes up the side of the fridge to a platform where lay a baguette.  from there there is a step and you climb in the loft.  well...i tried. but i couldn't do it.  i found the ladder scary because the steps are high, and when you get to the platform there's nothing to grab on to.  that's where i got a bit frozen.i also tossed the baguette out of my way.  amy had to scramble down over the counter to help me put my feet in their right spots to get down.  so that was a fail.  i've been looking at it.  i think if i bypass the weird ladder and go up over the counter way i may be able to.  i'm going to try again.

we spent some time with on the couch reading my 2016 family reunion magazine.  amy had never seen it.  it's been a while since i looked at it.  the fond memories and love for my family makes all the pictures so beautiful to me.

we decided to find a beach and try to see the comet neowise.  we didn't know exactly which way was north.  amy said "i feel like we should go to bridges beach".  so we did.  she said that was supposed to be a phosphie beach.  my eyes lit up.  "are you saying we should put on our bathing suits??!"  "well...yeah.. i could wear a suit.." mused the nudist.  

amy had only been there one time before.  the journey took us past pretty neighbourhoods and up on a hill where you could see gorgeous views.  then down a narrow road which ended with the beach.  we parked.  the sun was setting and the sky was turquoise and orange.  at the top of the path was a bench with binoculars wired to it.  so pender.  there were some stairs down.  it ended at a smooth rock face already covered in shin deep water. to the right and to the left were little beaches.  amy climbed under the stairs and i waded in the water to the beach.  we picked a big log to set up on.  we still weren't sure we were even facing the right direction but either way we were going to enjoy a sunset and a dip and maybe some phosphies.

we sat watching the sunset for a while.  it seemed to linger a long long time.  a ferry passed.  and big waves followed.  that's when we decided to go in.  the water was icy and refreshing.  i never went under.  there was a big soft gravel pit type area you have to stumble through before getting to harder ground.  the waves were wild and the sea was light and magical on top and dark inside.  the water moving up to meet me in heaves, flowing around and through me, the darkening sky and the outlines of orange.  amy is just a quick dipper these days and i couldn't bring myself to totally submerge. i got as deep as my chest and turned around to stumble like a drunk out of the water.  returning to land and gravity is always the antipathy of grace and flow for me.  amy stood ankle deep feeling the power and the beauty of the water rushing past her.  

we resorted back to the log and watched the sky.  

a couple came down the steps and stayed a while on the landing.  suddenly i saw the big dipper hanging directly in front of us. i nudged amy excitedly.  "hey there's the big dipper!"  "it's the big dipper!  it's the big dipper!  it's the big dipper!" amy burbled exuberantly.  she scared the couple off.

we waited for it to get darker.  we sang  canada o canada in rounds. first a lower version and then i higher  version.  we sang down in the valley and amy sang the most beautiful harmony and that moment felt so perfect.  the exact elements of perfect happiness  and a filled up soul for me. i side hugged amy.  "i think that is my first hug since covid" i told her.  "really?" "yeah." and i hugged her again and told her i loved her.  

a tanker passed us and barely made waves.  against darkness of the island in front of us we couldn't even see it except for it's few lights.  we decided it was purposely covert and maybe a boatload of covid refugees from the states.  amy said it was too close to truth to be funny.

i thought i saw something.  i wasn't sure.  so i took a pic and then zoomed in.  sure enough it was the comet tail and all!  as it got darker we could see it more and more.  it was still pretty faint though. 

 we went for a phosphie dip.  the phosphies there are SO bright. some are big chunks all well defined and bright.  we walked in seeing magic lit up with each step.  we were so taken with it we couldn't stop. we would turn around to go in and then be charmed by the phosphies again.  we splashed water towards each other to see the lights fly along the surface of the water.  amy went in and i did not want to cross the gravel pit.  so i crawled.  "i am pegasus" i said.  then i lay on my stomach in the icy water on the little stones and bright little lights and played with them with my hands before dragging myself to my feet and out of the water.  

meanwhile amy had been nekkid.  "are you nekkid?" i said as i arrived at the log.  she was behind in the shadows.  "not now" she said mysteriously.  i took a few more photos and we gathered up our things and dragged ourselves away.  back up the stairs and to trucky, waiting for us in the shadows.

as we drove way we whooped out the windows.  amy said penderites howl every day at 7.  it's their version of the pot banging for health care workers.  i would like to witness this.

when we got back to her house i got out of trucky and looked up at the sky.  it was full of bright stars surrounded by tree tops.  yes.  you.  i love you.