This morning the water is like old glass, wavy and glossy smooth.
This morning I got a voice message from my friend Jocey. I have figured out a new social media skill!! I am exchanging voice messages in FB messenger! Don’t laugh. It has taken me a few times to figure it out because you have to keep your finger on the the record button and you only get a minute and if you lift up your finger at all, it sends it automatically. The first time I did it I, sent three messages –5 seconds, 12 seconds and then 11 seconds – before I gave up and typed.
But now I am becoming the master of it! Mistress… Madam… Madam of FB voice messages…Okay, there’s room for improvement in that title… but I did it last night and this morning and today I told Jocey that I am living quite the ferry life and she sent back that she heard me saying I am living a fairy life, which could also be true. I am stepping in and out of the Bright World, where Rhiannon lives, where love changes time, where the wild rushes through me and also smoothes away my human edges and when I return, I shudder with whiplash. The transition away from the dream has been rough, gives me vertigo and attention deficit disorder. I have felt like I am falling when I leave and rushing when I return.
Speaking of rushing, I ran two red lights last night, trying to catch the 8:10 after D&D.
Not like barreling through, crossing my fingers that I won’t T a semi. These downtown streets are dark, almost deserted. It is 8:08. I can see the ferry. I am a block away. Surely this red light is more of a…suggestion? Yes, I decide. It is. I look both ways, go through. Drive a half block. Another red light, which also seems very related to a stop sign. I go through again. I am stopped by a construction flagger. I can see the fucking driveway into the ferry terminal; it is just 20 feet away!! The next ferry isn’t until 9. It is 8:09, but still I am hopeful. The last three ferries I took ran late. For fuck’s sake, flagger man!! He waves me through. The ticket guy says “Maybe…” I pull up. The boat is right there, but the red gate flashes and I sit on the tarmac and watch as it pulls away.
Fuck me, ferry. Fuck me, fairy time, fairy confusion. Fairies are famous for fucking with practical reality. Theirs is the Rip Ran Winkle way. You lose track of time and forget to put away the milk. Fairies, some of my friends like to say, make you attend to the invisible. This looks a lot like being absent-minded to the uninitiated. This also looks a lot like the madness of love. Fairy tricks. Ferry tricks. Ferry pulling away, fairy life put off for another 50 minutes….
But then I get out of the car and walk to the water. And the night sky is purple with green around the stars and the lights like brush strokes on the water and lo: the portal to the fairy world is everywhere, anywhere, when I stop rushing and am full only of anticipation and delight.
A glass of wine wouldn’t hurt either.
I walk up the salt-crusted steps to the little half round glass and stainless steel Parisian-feeling bar. The syrah looks good. 20 minutes left until I have to load. I reach into my bag.
I left my wallet in the car. Fuck me, ferry fairy life.