Morning Reflections

A quiet musing about Island Time

New readers may learn about me here.

There is a concept here called “Island Time”. Folks that are visiting, or new, sometimes have some trouble adjusting to it. They like their relaxation to be fast paced and stimulating.

I measure time in a few different ways.

Sunrises and sunsets. Each brings its own personality like a cherry on top of the predictability and harmony of the ocean, but they tell me that the time is “a day".

Weeks can go by where I’m not too sure of what day it is, either day of the week or day of the month. It’s enough to know that it is “a day”.

Breakfast is a time marker. It happens after sunrise and before dinner. But sometimes we don’t have dinner, so it could be most anytime before supper. Supper comes before bedtime, by which I mean my sleep time. It’s probably best to specify, given that we have Kona and the other girls here, and Gus, of course.

On a longer scale, we have Steam Bake time, which most people up north call summer, and Great Days, which come before and after Bake Time. And then we have winter when the yankees sling us their left over frost and general misery. But we are family, and they mostly like us, so we don’t get too much of that.

There is a relaxing same-ness to our days. Ships come and go. New people enact the same joy of discovery and wonder as they too come and go. Twice a day, the bridge onto the island gets gridlocked as the workforce that keeps us humming rides in and out.

Tourists scooter by, apparently without a schedule, so those events become more of a weather report than a time or calendar thing.

Then there are memories of events that become little points on our timeline. The day we met Myrtle, and others who’ve become part of our world are like that.

Weesa Buns recently brought an electric keyboard onto the porch, and she plays it, at least a little bit, most days. It seems to be her emotional release. I can generally tell how she and Callie are getting along by her musical ferocity. Eventually, we’ll forget when it appeared and adopt the new normal that it’s just been here ‘forever’.

Here on the porch, the world is small, the people are wonderful, and life is predictably pleasant. Yes, this is heaven. I’ve come to understand I don’t need what cities have to offer. They don’t have Island Time.

I hope you are well, and today brings peace and joy to your heart.

-Mills