Calgary bay company

I see gulls flip over the ebbing tide, the copper seaweed in brazen exposure, the sea-loch quietly grey and slightly wind-skiffed. I see the sweet pea pods waggle, the old rose holding tight in its last pink shout to a greyling sky, cloudbacked. I see the grass peppered heavily with clover leaves. Perhaps the blooms will come, perhaps it’s too late now for Autumn is definitely here. I know it because the fire has been on all day and I am fast running out of wood. this running out thing comes so quick. It seems that one day it’s…. what light stuff to wear and the next there’s a shiver and an opening of sweater drawers, much to the surprise and subsequent skitter of spiders. They’ve been safe for months now after all. I pause to let them go safe. It doesn’t bother me, the change of a season. In fact I welcome it. If we never accept and adapt to change, we just get some resistance issue like bad temper or a skin condition.

The Best Cafe Ever was gey busy last week. A gazillion lunches, endless coffees and cake, teas and allergies, dogs and wee ones, rain and shine. We welcome them all. In fact, someone said to me today, someone who isn’t afraid to speak their feelings, ‘That Cafe has just got it so right.’ And it’s true. There is something about hearing laughter all around, folk feeling welcome and well fed, served with smiles and can-do, which speaks volumes about any place of hospitality. And I love being part of the small team, as do my co-workers. It tells me that, although this place is only two seasons old, the idea of it, the walking it out, the risk involved has got it ‘just right’. We are small but dynamic. We are ready for whatever comes no matter the bizarre thunderstorms, no matter the craziness of the world, no matter the rainshift, the snaggle-toothed roads, the ferry issues, the lack of parking because there just isn’t enough rock to park on. No matter any of it. Still the gulls wheel and shriek under a louring cloud bank; still there is a humbacked whale just out there; still there are hills brocaded with a turning green; still there are wild birds lifting and hovering, floating on updrafts. Still the tides ebb and flow, still the night comes and there is no pollutive light.

A dot on the map, yes, but a dot worth a visit.

Back home from work at the Best Cafe Ever I always arrive to a turbulence of birds. Even in this rain, they sit along the wires and I swear they welcome me. I say Hallo Friends, but just to let you know that I will stop feeding you from May 1st, whatever the weather. They will miss me, and I will miss them very much, the dip and dive, the rise and flutter just outside my window, but what I know, and they don’t, is that a ferocious disease is coming back and will kill them and their young, if I persist in my desire to watch them feed. It thinks me.

When my children were too young to know what I didn’t want to know, I had to be the responsible one. I had to say no when that ‘no’ word set up a load of trouble. No, you cannot go to a disco at 14; no you cannot borrow the car; no you will not get flashing trainers, a TV in your bedroom, a pet snake. It was years of ‘not easy’ but that is intelligent parenting and not one of us wants it. But time passes and then they become parents and then they say ‘Ah, I get it”. It’s such a long wait to hear that, if indeed we ever do. Nobody knows a life until they live it, after all.

In the BCE, there is a young girl, new to the tasks, mid early exams, on the brink of womanhood and still under strong protection against which, I imagine, she rebels. I have watched her, listened to her, engaged with her and she is one fine early woman. I have met such in my granddaughters. Strong, clear on what they will and won’t accept. I resist the words that rise in me, the cautionary tale, and I just say, as I said to her today. Remember one thing. Do everything to make sure of your independence. Do the work towards that independence, no matter. how hard, how much you yawn at the thought of it, because if you don’t, you will end up being convinced. that a different way to yours is brighter, like the flashing trainers were once to my kids. Flash and diamond lights and promises of gold and magic is a load of shite. Always.

I wish I had known who I was at that age. I didn’t. I was, then, a follower and the leader was a man, everytime. I have nothing against men, I love them. When they come into the cafe, the bikers, the fit cyclists, and, even though they are young enough to be my sons, if there’s a sparkle, I play. This the fun of life and I love it. But I do think of those long ago days when I had no idea of my beauty and I can see ithe truth of that now in old photos. All I had was a need to escape. Thank goodness I did, and into safe arms.

My beautiful granddaughter turns 16 in a few days. I was almost married at 18, I told her recently. She, beautiful and talented she, laughed. Never me, Granny, never me. I want to focus on my exams and my piping (she is a brilliant piper) and then I laughed too. Of course my clever and beautiful girl. Of course.