Day 2 (June 24): Sunny Shores
Dear Reader,
As long as I've known Elise, she has craved Big Water. Not the kind of big water I've heard surfers covet. You see, Elise grew up on Lake Superior, which has this massive effect on you simply because of its, well, mass. It evokes calm. No, it commands calm. For most of our 20 years together, we made frequent trips to where her late grandfather lived on Bainbridge Island, looking out on Agate Passage, which separates the island from the mainland Kitsap Peninsula. Elise always took a specific kind of deep breath whenever we arrived there.
So now, here we are on the western side of Whidbey Island, near the town of Oak Harbor, facing another large body of water. If you've ever encountered Big Sky Country in Montana, presumably as a visitor, you probably know this feeling of awe. Whatever it is, Big Water means something special to Elise.
Today was a good day. There was quiet reading on the sofa (quiet for us, the kids were wrecking havoc on the beach at low tide or disassembling their bedrooms). There was playing at water's edge. There was jumping in waves (by kids, who are apparently impervious to 55 degree water). There was a late afternoon ferry boat ride so that we could spent an hour at a very-minor, minor league baseball game (AquaSox, short-A affiliate of Seattle Mariners, were losing 13-2 when we stopped listening on the way home). There was an evening ferry boat ride, heading back into the sunset on its way from Mulkiteo (mainland) to Clinton (island).
This was also the first day in months that we did no preparing. I booked no travel, only tickets on a tour boat tomorrow and the seats at the game. There was no packing. There were no lists. The most complicated part was Elise's trip to a local grocery store. The most arduous was Elise doing a workout with kids underfoot.
Here's hoping that tomorrow brings something similar.
As long as I've known Elise, she has craved Big Water. Not the kind of big water I've heard surfers covet. You see, Elise grew up on Lake Superior, which has this massive effect on you simply because of its, well, mass. It evokes calm. No, it commands calm. For most of our 20 years together, we made frequent trips to where her late grandfather lived on Bainbridge Island, looking out on Agate Passage, which separates the island from the mainland Kitsap Peninsula. Elise always took a specific kind of deep breath whenever we arrived there.
So now, here we are on the western side of Whidbey Island, near the town of Oak Harbor, facing another large body of water. If you've ever encountered Big Sky Country in Montana, presumably as a visitor, you probably know this feeling of awe. Whatever it is, Big Water means something special to Elise.
Today was a good day. There was quiet reading on the sofa (quiet for us, the kids were wrecking havoc on the beach at low tide or disassembling their bedrooms). There was playing at water's edge. There was jumping in waves (by kids, who are apparently impervious to 55 degree water). There was a late afternoon ferry boat ride so that we could spent an hour at a very-minor, minor league baseball game (AquaSox, short-A affiliate of Seattle Mariners, were losing 13-2 when we stopped listening on the way home). There was an evening ferry boat ride, heading back into the sunset on its way from Mulkiteo (mainland) to Clinton (island).
This was also the first day in months that we did no preparing. I booked no travel, only tickets on a tour boat tomorrow and the seats at the game. There was no packing. There were no lists. The most complicated part was Elise's trip to a local grocery store. The most arduous was Elise doing a workout with kids underfoot.
Here's hoping that tomorrow brings something similar.
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