island hopping: southport
end of watch
Last run. Sharp puffs of breath. Church bells at my back like a breeze. Nine miles, nine graveyards. Fire station, the lighthouse. The beach where three daughters held a memorial for the last member of the Mother’s Club.
An island is a mother.
*
Docks hauled up for winter. Shuttered cottages. The boathouse where my kayak sleeps. Bears in hibernation.
Listen and you hear builders hammering a deck, a lobster boat idling at the wharf, the silence. Ghosts of summer.
An island is a memory.
*
I run in search of self and always, I find peace.
An island is a gift.
this microstory is the second in the island hopping series
Marvelous! So much is contained in those five words, “An island is a mother.” I think an island is also a daughter?
Just beautiful! I love this line: An island is a mother. I’ve always felt really protected and safe on islands, and I think this line sums up that sentiment just beautifully.