Monday, September 10, 2012


I had known about this date for a while when it arrived. 8/19/12. "I leave the island on 8/19/12," I'd think. I'd be at the monastery for a month, until 8/19/12. I'd leave the day after the fair, 8/19/12. Sunday, 8/19/12. And there it sat on the top of my journal entry--the date I had known would come and bring inescapable change. The day of transition--of ends and new beginnings.

I sat on the ferry that day on a bench seat that intentionally looked forward, thinking my choice had something to say about my attitude. Look ahead. Hold your head high. Go into the future facing forward. Take it head on.

But my head betrayed me. My eyes kept looking back. And Shaw Island kept getting smaller and smaller. And Mary Ann and Martha were no longer at the ferry landing, waving goodbye. Sunday mass would start in an hour. My sheets would still be in the dryer. Mother Dilecta would be milking the cow. Guests would arrive. But I was leaving, to go home, to start work, facing forward, on a bench looking ahead, glancing back.