Waiting for my ride
Sometimes mine is the only car waiting at the landing. The scale of the response never stops being funny: a whole ferry crosses the water, lowers the ramp, and takes me aboard.
By evening, the day’s list has usually proven optimistic. But each season my little corner of the island feels less like a project and more like a place. On the late crossing, if the timing is right, the sunset appears over the water and makes a pretty convincing case for having stayed so long.