Today it just happened that I was reminded of Feist, and her music crescendoed perfectly with the events of this day. 

This morning I woke up at 6 and again at Noon. 

Oops. 

Last night my dad called me. I thought it was to catch up or to tell me he got the oil changed in my car, but he said my Grandmother’s heart rate was at 200 and wanted to know if I wanted to talk to her. My heart plunged and I was immediately anxious, scared and sad all at once. So far, and there have been several, this will be the biggest loss I’ll go through. I’ve been fearing it since June of last year when I got home from Europe and Nana had a heart attack. We were in the hospital with her for a few weeks. It was awful. I went to Austin and then it hit me I could lose her and I started crying in an antique store. I tried to brush it off from my friends but I didn’t know what to do. 

By the time I got to the plane ride home and it kept getting delayed in 30 minute increments until they ordered the whole plane pizzas, I burst into tears and the woman to my right who self-identified as fluffy because she needed a seatbelt extender asked me what was wrong and wouldn’t let me cry alone. She would’ve made the perfect neighbor on the show Roseanne. She said “Who is it? Your Mom, Grandma, Sister?” As I sucked back silent, rapid tears spit out I “Nana” and she said. “Trust me, I’ve been in these situations before. When they know it’s important, they wait for you.” And I appreciated Fluffy for saying that, even though this was the first time I was considering and recognizing that my Nana was not invincible and that she would not live forever. Most people figure that out about their grandmothers before they are 86 but not everyone’s grandmother is Nana. She worked full-time until age 82 and she loves us so much and she is too precious for me to flesh out with words, really. 

But I did make it home and she did recover. 

This time, a few weeks before I left for Alaska, she had a second heart attack. Her caretaker told me anxiously that she doesn’t think Nana will make it very long with her dementia and the condition of her heart. Last June, the outcome did not look good, but we were hopeful. This time, the outcome is less of an outcome and more of a projected timeline. Lifespans and timelines: whoever thought to put the two together should not go into gambling. 

I’ve told Nana the story about Fluffy at least 10 times. She always chuckles like she knows what’s coming, but she couldn’t tell you the story again to save her soul. I know she appreciates hearing it but she hates to hear that I was so sad. Deep down, I think it makes her feel loved to know that I cared that much. And I do. We are dear friends. 

So I slept until Noon. I don’t feel as bad about it as I could. I’d rather be asleep than awake if it means considering the circumstances. Sleep is a more responsible choice than alcohol, right? 

Around 6:30 I willed myself into the living room, found my eye mask and fell back asleep. 

At Noon I ate oats for breakfast, made a cup of keurig and sat in front of this machine. I don’t remember what I did with the time between Noon and when I left for the Salvation Army to buy pants. I found a pair of ill-fitting black slacks that I could make work for the docks. I came home, cut out the hem so they would be long enough, walked around in them for 30 minutes, cooked lunch (at 3pm) which consisted of two eggs over medium,  cooked spinach, tomato and a piece of turkey I laid on the pan so it would get to know the other ingredients. While the cooking spinach hissed, Feist’s music videos played on youtube starting with 1-2-3-4 and then to I Feel It All.  It was delicious. I haven’t simply eaten a moderate amount and stopped when I was satisfied in quite some time. I just ate handfuls of unconsidered wheat thins and slices of cheese and hummus until I was too full to think most of the time, then I’d go back upstairs and watch Netflix in the guest room. Or sit with Nana. 

You know what Fluffy said about the important ones holding out for you when you’re gone- what about when you leave for three years? I sat and laid my head on Nana’s tummy and told her I didn’t want to leave and I was worried. I asked her what I was supposed to do? She told me I had to go and that I was to pray that God would take care of her. She doesn’t know that I don’t really pray. If I thought it would keep Nana alive or that it would make me a millionaire, I would certainly pray. But for Nana, I will do it. At least, I will try. 

I opened the window above the sink to let the egg smell out. The drainage stream to the left of the house sounded like one of those atmospheric soundtracks, too perfect to be real.

Feist’s music covers the span of emotions and life experience, I pondered as the 2 egg yolks eyeballed me from the pan. I watched 1-2-3-4 and thought about posting it to Facebook with “I want to do this as a flashmob for my 30th birthday. Who’s in?” Then I started to think about how her songs represented different years in my 20s. Mushaboom will be 30, I reckon. It’s a celebration, a carefree and calm, light happiness that comes from walking several winding trails to find a clearing. The darker songs, The Water would apply to the quarter life crisis: the depressed era. 23 would be dramatic from the sudden, incapacitating darkness of Seattle. 26- the even darker period in that miserable job after the miserable break-up. Blughck. Deliver me from that prison of memories! There would have to be anger in whatever song I picked for 27. 28 would be upbeat: Europe. But not full of glee. Not answer-ful. Not complete.

– – – – – – – 

I messaged with Danielle who said she saw whales today on the boat and that I must go outside. I decided to pack a dinner and go. Sweet potato and cheesy pasta with sauce. I packed a small container with one glass of wine, and Ghirardelli dark chocolate to complete it. 

I took the truck to Mountain Point Beach beach (20 minutes! a long way for  Ketchikan). I parked and had to find my spot for sitting. It took a bit of exploring and balancing tenuously on rocks veiled in algae that spiraled like pasta shells off of the rocks. When you step on them firmly, air spurts out. I wonder how many creatures I displaced from pattering around. 

Ah- it’s called rockweed, I just looked it up. It looks like the rocks got a bad perm.

There are beautiful, beautiful- I can’t stress this enough: beautiful, hulking, slight and strong pieces of driftwood placed all around the rockweed. But the rocks were the most exciting. They looked to be erupting in music, like they are all coming up for air from some long, tiresome journey and with great effort, they’ve propelled themselves up to the surface. The rocks look  angry, jagged and unforgiving: not for humans to sit comfortably or to sit at all. The rocks are unapologetic. They believe very strongly that they should be there and they aren’t leaving. 

Eventually I found a path to a view, where I could balance my camera, Safeway bag of dinner and purse, and enjoy the landscape. I was immediately comforted to see two people fishing while I was still trying to land. I half-expected a cop to come collect me and say I wasn’t allowed here. The lady had a grass hat, the guy wore Xtra tufs. I’m tired of Xtra tufs and I refused to buy them, so I got Sperrys instead. They’re probably not as good as Xtra tufs because they can’t be folded down at the top when it gets hot, but I don’t care. X-tra tufs are damn ugly. 

The pasta was warm-ish and the potato was white but somehow sweet? It was delicious. I saved some pasta and sipped some wine from a small plastic container. It was earthy, deep, strong. 

The shapes of the massive driftwood were stunning and rhythmic. They were like a cast of characters in a Shakespeare play, each so different from the next. One looked like a pair of knuckles which had been balled up too long, and perfectly so. Dry skin like on my dad’s hands in December. 

I made two attempts at an instagram video because the first disappeared, the second successful, chronicling my meal on a perch in Alaska. 

I’m tired of being alone, balancing on rockweed and hoping I don’t slip. But I’m less concerned of the dangers of rockweed than the sadness of looking at the rocks alone. I’ve decided I’m ready for a relationship. Or… that I will be, when I’m done with the peace corps. In my mind, my future unravels in two veins: either I get done with peace corps (at 32) and move to NYC to be a flight attendant, and am single until I’m 40. My other life involves meeting someone ASAP and getting married so I can start my life with another person. Somehow I have a feeling neither of these scenarios is going to play out in real time. 

I finished my food and my chocolate. It was getting chilly, my coat was in the car. 

The all-too-familiar sadness crept in. I watched the fishing couple slowly move closer to me while they fished. I think they were following the sunset? I have no idea. 

I surveyed my mouth with my tongue to find any spare oregano. 

I would have sung to myself if I had been alone, but that would have felt more lonely than just being quiet. 

The sun was starting to make some dazzling moves, so I packed up my plastic ware and headed to the golden green around the trees. 

As I packed up, the fisherman from the couple said “We didn’t get in your way, did we?” and I was instantly charmed and said “No of course not.” I wanted to tell him how happy I was that he was there but that would be weird. “I’m so glad you’re both here because I’m used to seeing the sights alone.” 

The glorious green sprouts of Spring surrounded the trees and it all looked like a secret hideaway from Lord of the Rings. The trees were housing some magic beneath them somehow, I wanted to hear a secret language or at least meet a leprechaun. 

My camera is older but I tried to capture the golden sunshine on the green sprouts. It sort of worked. I headed back to the truck and heard a guy saying “I heard you caught a big one today.” “Yeah it was 25 pounds fully dressed man” “Man talk man talk man talk Xtra Tufs Xtra Tufs Xtra tufs I’m a man in the wilderness blah blah”

I smiled as a cute guy and his dad (perhaps dad with a really severe back problem that caused him to lean over at 45 degrees as he walked). They moved their boat from behind my truck. I put my stuff in my car except for my phone and the keys. 

I thought I’d grab a panorama picture. I clicked the camera on to start and the phone died. 

Just as the black screen appeared on my phone as I held it in front of my face, I heard a loud snort and saw a gray orb in the distance. A whale! 

The behemoth was swallowed by the water before I could do anything. 

I smiled and spurted to myself “A Whale!” 

I walked back to the car with a wide smile and my eyes were alive. 

I smiled the whole way home. I can’t believe I saw a whale and it happened when I was looking right in its direction.