Tuesday, October 3, 2017

Another Farewell to Summer

I am fond of ferries, for they have no bow or stern—they challenge our faith in linearity. But sailing on one away from Summer is a little different than commuting. Within the confines of a daily trip to work, it’s the minutia I must cherish. But here, upon the Lopez Sound sailing to Anacortes and away from the San Juans, the world of my consideration is larger.

It’s time again to say goodbye to unconditionally sunny days.

It’s time again to say farewell to wearing shorts and not bringing a closet full of layers.

But it’s also time to sail further into wisdom, and one gets that here, on the end of the ferry that faces the wake, the Island, the past. I don’t live in the past, although many have accused me of that act. How much of the past is me? That would be difficult to measure and out here beneath the sun and the clouds, I marvel at these universes I’m constantly moving through.

Maybe that’s why I like this end of the boat. I’m solitary by nature, and I usually have it to myself. Here I don’t have the enormity of others and their worlds weighing down on me. Those worlds are beautiful and ugly and I am thankful I no longer feel the need to possess them as my own in some selfish, youthful way.

The woman who was going to be the professor? I don’t know where that Ada went exactly. I used to search for her. The permutations of possibility are limited by only our minds and considering most of mine resides below this surface, I have no idea how many they are, so I learned that the subjunctive past is one I must be careful of.

I may be a little sad at leaving my vacation, or holiday, or retreat, or whatever you wish to call it. But then I remember that is because I am weighing in the scales of what I expect the quotidian to be and that is an unfair comparison. There may not be much that is fair in this world—save for what we make it—but fairness includes the lives we are constantly sailing into. It's our responsibility to make it better.

I thank the sun and the water for their beauty. I thank the elegance of the sailboat and the steadfast hum of the ferry’s engines. I thank the Summer for her time and look forward to the introspection of the Fall. I am grateful for this gift of a day, and shall keep it as the world grows darker.

No comments:

Post a Comment