I’ve moved along to coffee. A saint would have lingered at the breathing and blessing of the vision of the lake. A poet would have compared the morning to a true love. The dog in the story would be frisky and young. He might bounced around the master or stood steadfast by his side. My old blind cockapoo is in the throes of love having his back scratched by his goddess.. He’s coughing like the old man he is. His congestive heart failure making his breathing sound like a lifetime of cheap cigars. She massages his back. They are happy. That makes me happy.
My neighbour is loading up his gear. I’m in the Cariboo Bonanza , a trailer park resort on the side of Horse Lake.I’ve a skookum Adventurer Camper on the back of my Ford F-350 Lariat. My KTM 690 Motorcycle is mounted on the front of the truck. I know when I drive into a place of men I bring looks of approval. I may wear earrings and a skirt but my rig speaks competence. The guys on either side of me are old like me and it’s apparent they’ve spent years of honing the skills of caravan.
Out the window I can see these considered mixes of Camper, RV, Buses, Truck and Boats. Keystones, Jayco’s, Topaz, Rams, Fords, Chevy’s. Canoes, aluminum Fishing boats, gas outboards, electric outboards, quads, electric bicycles, mountain bicycles. The trick is the right combination. The neighbour tows a sweet little trailer but his truck is the deal. On the back of his Ram 250, he has an aluminum rack that takes his aluminum fishing boat. He tows a sweet little trailer he and his dark haired partner share. He’s outfitted the truck bed with special gear box. The outboard just fits in place . “Nice rig,” I’d say if I was outside . That’s high complement here, among men.
Even as I sit here sipping my glorious Ethiopian stove top espresso coffee with honey and cream, the children are beginning to spill out of the trailers. I think of Kevin and Anna with their 4 little ones. A little tow haired boy across the way has mounted his little bright orange bicycle and taken off unsteadily to circle this enclave where dogs and toddlers are safe. It’s early. I notice half the boats from the dock are absent. Keen fishermen. I’m thinking of another cup of coffee.
I’ve interrupted Gilbert’s massage and managed to feed his 4 different pills in slices of roast beef. He does not like the capsule. Three times he spit it out before with I thought he’d swallowed it with third piece of roast beef wrap . Laura found it spit out on the bed. I wonder if he does that for more roast beef.
I dreamed of a goddess last night. Aphrodite. Some wondrous heavenly mix of present and past lovers. She was fair and gentle with soft wisdom in her voice and we talked of marriage and love as if we spoke of reincarnations and ages. I was on that special island peninsula by the harbour I so often dream of, usually with my sailing boat with me. This time we in the spacious apartments overlooking the bay admiring the rich colours and lovely surrounding.. Mediterranean might describe it or Spanish. Canadian. Something futuristic and ancient. I was wondering why love came and went and we were talking of hide and seek with God. She was a divine mother and might well have been Hera or Mother Mary. In that place all is possible. The place of dreams and mystery. I woke to find a real life goddess in bed beside me, the fragrance of my dream mixing with the lovely scent of her. Then the dog was pleading to be let up on the bed to be with her. I had to pee. Then the coffee called.
I’m enjoying looking out my window at the profusion of colours. The great green forest with the humans swaths of reds, and orange and yellows, between it and me. If I turn I can look at the lake. The mist is gone and a slight breeze is rippling the water.
There are clouds in the sky but the sun is breaking through here and there. My plan is to walk the dog. Then I might get the motorcycle down off the rack. I have a pontoon boat to assemble. I ordered it online, and it arrived, too heavy and bulky for my liking. Dave said when I shared that with him,” What did you expect. You got the top of the line with all the bells and whistles. You should have got the simplest one. It was half the price and would have done what you wanted.” Dave’s got his life settled into an orderly trailer with well chosen Harley and good old truck. He lives at the cabin in the summer doing various projects taking pictures of birds and bears. We all have motorcycles. Or hot cars.
George called to say his wife was doing well in the hospital. ‘Couldn’t wait to get back to her girlfriends.’ He said. He’s pleased. “As long as she’s well cared for, I’m happy.” He’s sold the house and his daughter helped him with her mother. Now George has moved further out in the valley and dreams of driving his new old muscle car down Route 66. “I’m hoping the border opens so I can get on with my trip.’ Covid 19 threw a wrench in the works.
Each of us having worked a life time and served in our various roles, husbands, fathers, soldiers, businessman, doctors, accountants, welders, we are now at the time of summer vacation. The school year is done. We passed with flying colours, outperformed whatever standards the elite and dynastic posted. We survived at very least. Now we’re pawns in this bigger political picture between disease and economic threat and rumours of war. Yet here we are hoping and having faith and working towards the last hoorah.
We are in a crowd heading towards Jerusalem looking at each other’s donkeys and knowing no ones waving palms. It’s long past that phase. The laughter and bitterness are all together in the soup of creation that fill out hearts when we stop the business of existence to wonder.
It’s another day. Walking the dog is next. Here, Gilbert, come on. He’s happy. Blind, he hears his name and prepares to sniff and piss away another day.
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