Arriving at the dock is a magical feeling, like the beginning of time travel. A million memories hit, your normal worries, job, stress and age don’t matter. Suddenly, your feet are up, your butt is down and your gaze is out at the vast waters of Winnipesauke, straining for a sight of Sandy’s shore.
When the boat is late, these feet start to show a little impatience.
But, all that patience returns when your feet take their first few steps on the Island and a small hand reaches up for yours, welcoming you back home. You were once just like this child, and seeing him enjoying the exact same swing, water, beach, rocks and boats you did, makes it impossible not to smile.
On Sandy, these feet are in constant motion. From running over rooted trails – where almost every root has a bloody knee story – to judging a bocci tournament – although that may not seem like a physical activity, competition gets heated and this foot is required to measure some distances in order to prevent a feud.
But there is no place where feet – at least this left foot – move more than at the family dances. If you’ve ever done the cotton eye joe, you know what I mean.
These feet found a rest though, in the evenings, propped up in the library amidst dozens of family and friends.
Slightly nervous feet about falling out of the top bunk (its happened too many times before) but that’s cabin living, and that’s classic Sandy.
Most content foot. A perfect view, of a perfect sunrise on the most perfect island that ever was. Rising early is never an issue here, not that it is really ever an issue for this particular foot.
Saying goodbye is the hardest part though. Heels dug in, in the sand, trying to soak up every last bit of sunlight and beauty before the boat carries us away until another year rolls around.