Entries

Vancouver Island

Click: images that capture the imagination.

Today’s click comes from Brenda, in West Jefferson, North Carolina.

This morning at dawn, I let Karma, my Yorkshire Terrier, out into the yard. It was a beautiful, warm spring morning. Birds were singing and a scent of blooming blossoms sweetened the breeze. Pink tinged the sky and even though I had to get ready for work, I took a moment to sit on the porch and savor the imminent sunrise. Karma did too. She sat on the edge of the yard as the wind stirred her hair, staring at the mountain opposite with her little black nose turned to the sky, catching the scent of birds, blossoms and probably something else of which I was completely unaware. As we sat quietly, a small rabbit came flying down the road in front of our house. Nothing was chasing it but it was running as if something was. It did not veer to the right or left but ran in a perfect straight line down the center of the road from stage right to stage left and out of sight. Karma watched the entire scene which lasted only a few seconds. She did not bark. She did not give chase. She just turned and looked at me with an inscrutable expression on her face, as, faintly, in the distance, I heard a tiny voice, slightly out of breath: “I’m late! I’m late!”

Brought out of my reverie, I realized that I, too, would be late if I paused to enjoy the morning any longer. I collected Karma and went into the house to prepare for the day.

A friend was telling me that I ought to go live on Vancouver Island. Apparently there are “lush old-growth rainforests where the trees form a cool canopy over hiking trails, sparkling wave-swept beaches that stretch for miles, majestic mountains with glittering glaciers and snow-capped peaks, crystal-clear rivers teeming with fish, sun-dappled lakes surrounded by parkland, alpine meadows filled with wild flowers, rolling vistas of farmland and vineyards”.

And I know that those of you who do live on Vancouver Island or in the city proper love it, and are really happy there, and I’m sure it’s a wonderful place to live. But listen, I lived on the west coast of North America for twelve years. I hated it from the very beginning, and it did NOT grow on me as time went on. In the city of Victoria on Vancouver Island, you might see eleven whole inches of snow in a year. Compare that to 53 inches in Toronto, then consider that I’d be perfectly happy if Toronto got 75 inches, and winter lasted from August to mid-July, and you begin to see that Vancouver Island and I would not have a happy relationship. Give me sincerely scowling east coasters any day, trudging through the snow, walking at a forty five degree angle against the wind.

I mean, can you imagine what this entry would look like?

I was in my tiny village of Port Alice, wandering down the baking aisle of FP Foods, because, really, what else is there to do in this godforsaken town where there’s no subway and no improv theatre and the nearest sushi restaurant is fucking 509 kilometres away, and I overheard a couple talking.

Man …but, darling, we can’t be seen together. I know you’re eighteen, but I’m still your high school English teacher, and I could lose my job. You’re not exactly the first student I’ve -

Woman But, like, Mr. Thompson, I totally love you! We are awesome together, and now with the, like, baby coming -

Man Shhhhh! My god, do you want the entire village to hear?

Woman But you’re totally gonna leave your wife ’cause she doesn’t understand you, and you’re gonna buy us a townhouse on Rupert Avenue, that’s what you said! Who cares if everyone knows!

Man Will you just please – uh, hi, Linda. Are you looking for mustard too? Let me just move here, so you can reach the French’s…

Linda Well, now, Frank. What were you and young Ashley here discussing so intensely?

Man We were, uh, Ashley had some questions about…college…entrance exams…

Linda Really. You must be so excited about your college entrance exams, Ashley! I saw you asking Mr. Thompson questions about them down on the beach the other day. Lying down.

Woman Oh, Mrs. Vognar, I’m not going to college now. Not with the baby coming in November!

Or, anyway, that’s what I would put in online journal if I had one. But of couse Mr. Thompson’s wife is my landlady, and Ashley babysits my son Friday nights, and Mrs. Vognar is my husband’s boss, so I can’t talk about any of it.

If only I lived in a big city. *sigh*

Claire

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