I may not have written about the foot ferry but for those of you unfamiliar with my commute- I leave my dear husband Paul fast asleep in the early morning hours and walk down from my house to the foot ferry in Annapolis which is about three blocks away, and walk down a long dock and onto a little passenger only ferry. The current deckhand Annie always greets me with a cheery “Hi Joan!” no matter how horrendous the weather, and the captain, the ever handsome Tom does as well. The little boat is called the General Chesty, apparently named after a famous Marine with many decorations on his chest. One day recently the General Chesty’s heater was on the fritz, and Tom said “Welcome to the Ice-Chesty!” Oh ya baby it was FREEZING!
After I ride across the bay, about 10 minutes on a good day, we arrive in Bremerton and I then run for a hot coffee to go and load onto the larger ferry, which carries humans and cars and then take an hour’s ride to Seattle (see FerryLife.Wordpress.com for our ferry stories) , where I then hike up the hill to my office! Quite the workout, I must say…
But, getting to the point here, tonight, Paul was at the junkyard we own which is lovingly referred to as Iron Acres, with little Teddy, my troublesome Shih Tzu, so he was unable to meet me at the ferry dock in Annapolis where he tries to meet me to carry my briefcase and walk me up the Hill. So, I march past the Blue Goose Tavern, full of sweatshirted and ball-capped beer drinkers and shuffleboard players, past the mini storage units with the bright orange doors, past the guy in the beat up pickup truck yelling “Hey Babe, do you need a ride?”, past the daycare center ( a former church where Paul’s parents were married, actually), and where two of our collective 4 children attended and my granddaughter Cassie attended also, and then face the long hike back up the Hill. As I walk, huffing and puffing a little bit, I am thankful for the little flashing light that my son Jamezz gave me for my briefcase, and I am thankful for the wonderful leaves that rustle as I walk through them. I think about the dozens or hundreds of times that I have made the trip back and forth to the office in good health and especially am happy tonight because dear Paul moved the dead squirrel out of the road so I wouldn’t have to see it or step on it on my journey. Here’s to living in a neighborhood where you know all of the bumps in the road and can find your way home in the deepest darkness. Here’s also to seeing lights on at your front porch and knowing your key will always unlock the door. Amen and good night.
One response to “Bumps in the Road”
What a happy lovely story. I really enjoyed hearing how gallant “Dear Paul” was to move the dead squirrel. So sweet!