Thursday August 25th, 2016

The exercise:

On this, the 3,000th day in a row of Daily Writing Practice, we write about: the guardians.

Inspired by my finally getting around to watching Guardians of the Galaxy on Netflix over the course of a couple nights this last week. Good fun.

Bakery was significantly quieter than it has been this morning. The opening lineup actually fit inside the shop, and we had lots of cinnamon buns left for most of the morning. And they were still open when I left at quarter after twelve!

I guess we're starting to get into the quieter time of year, as tourists head home and students prepare to return to school.

Although not all that quiet - all that was on the shelves when I headed for home was about ten loaves of bread and one macaroon.


I have been feeling... conflicted, these past few weeks. The work that I do has not changed... yet, somehow, it feels different now. Or, at least, I feel differently about it.

Do the others feel this way? Have they felt it too? We've worked together so long now, we know each other so well. If they are not experiencing this... shift... then surely they have noticed the shift within me.

Hesitation has crept into actions that required none before. I carry so much guilt around with me that it must alter the way I speak, walk, sleep... the way I shoot.

My aim is not what it used to be. I could blame it on age finally catching up with me. But that would just be another lie. I have already collected enough of those to last two life times. I am done with them.

So what is the truth? I am a member of this team of guardians. We still guard this place. We keep the people here safe.

But who are they, really? Do they deserve to be kept safe? What have they done that makes others wish them so much ill that they require our presence and protection? Am I a good guy, a hero? I had always thought so.

Recently, however, I have begun to feel much more like a villain...

Wednesday August 24th, 2016

The exercise:

Write something which involves: the lighthouse.

Had a short shift (8 to 11) at the bakery this morning, as a new person was being trained to take over the full-time position starting in September (when Mary goes back to school). As a first shift back after vacation, it worked out pretty well for me.

This afternoon I picked corn from the garden and collected some McIntosh apples from the cooler for the lone local customer who put in an order this week. Who then proceeded to arrive late to pick her stuff up.

I'm about done with local orders. You know, in case I haven't mentioned that yet.


I watch the storms come.

Black clouds roll in from the horizon, an unstoppable avalanche of Atlantic fury. The waves reach higher, frothing at the mouth as they crash towards my shore. Screaming winds urge them onward. The air is electric and heavy with the promise of that which shall arrive all too soon.

I watch the storms rage.

Rain lashes against my walls and windows, seeking an opening into my sanctuary. Winds wish to topple me to the rocks which surround me. Lightning flashes. Again. And again. And again. Thunder rattles my bones.

I watch the storms go.

My waters, now filled with debris, return to soft rolling sighs, their tantrums quickly forgotten. The air is made new once more. Sunshine parts the clouds and brings with it warmth and the tentative calls of the birds who, like me, call this place home.

I am the keeper.

I keep the light on, burning bright in the deepest darkness. I keep ships and sailors safe, warning them away from my deadly, treacherous rocks. I keep this tower strong, forever reaching for the sky. Forever standing against the storms.

I am eternal.

I must be. For there is no one waiting to take my place.

Tuesday August 23rd, 2016

The exercise:

Write two haiku about: the homecoming.

Long day on the road. Nothing went wrong, really, it just took a long time to get here with extra stops (and an extra long break for lunch and playtime in a park).

Grateful to be home though.

Looking forward to getting settled in again.

Not looking forward to working at the bakery tomorrow morning.

I'm exhausted. Good night.


Been a long time gone;
familiar faces now lined.
I'm ready to leave.

*     *     *

Sweet scents of fruit trees,
the soft nightsong of crickets -
it's good to be home.

Monday August 22nd, 2016

The exercise:

Write something that has to do with: all aboard.

We left Comox this morning, after a difficult parting, hoping to catch the 12:15 ferry out of Nanaimo for Vancouver. Barring that, we figured we'd be there in plenty of time to catch the 12:50.

On the highway just outside Nanaimo is an electronic sign with current ferry information on it. When we reached it the 12:15 was already full and the 12:50 was at 66% capacity. The next sailing was at 3:10.

We got into the huge lineup, had to wait for the first ferry to be loaded before we could even get to the booth to purchase our ticket, and hoped for the best. It was a long wait to do with two little boys in the car, but the final result was a relief.

We were the third to last vehicle onto the ship. There may have been a mini celebration in the car the moment we realized we wouldn't have to wait at the terminal for another two hours.

It was a smooth sailing, much less windy than the one that brought us over to the island. We did hit some pretty terrible traffic coming through Vancouver, but we made it back to Kat's aunt's place eventually.

After dinner I went to visit one of my closest high school friends, who did not attend the reunion, and it was really great to catch up with him.

Now all that's left is the final leg of the journey. I'm about ready to be home.


"Is everyone aboard now?"

"Yes, Captain. Though there is trouble brewing on the third deck."

"If it is only brewing then I expect it to be brought under proper control before any damage is done."

"Yes, Captain. It's just that it might be out of our hands already."

"What? How exactly did it go from trouble brewing to we can't do anything about it? I was clear in my instructions to the crew, was I not?"

"Yes, Captain. Unfortunately the lions refused to remain in their cages on the fourth deck and were undeterred by our attempts to prevent them from entering the third deck."

"Remind me: what's on the third deck?"

"The last last known remaining humans in the galaxy, Captain."

"Oh for... what was that noise?"

"It would appear that we've lost another species to extinction, Captain."

Sunday August 21st, 2016

The exercise:

Write about: the beachcomber.

I guess people had a little too much to drink last night, as only one of my friends showed up at the beach this afternoon. There may have been other graduates from my year but I certainly didn't recognize them.

It was disappointing, but it gave me plenty of time to explore the beach with Max. We collected lots of seashells, turned over plenty of rocks in search of crabs (and found lots and lots of them), and even built a fort with driftwood.

Heading back to Vancouver tomorrow morning. I expect that it will be difficult to leave.


He walks the beach
Hunched over,
Head swinging slowly
From side to side
As he searches
For treasure
Or whatever
Folks will buy.

The bulging bag,
Thrown over his shoulder
As he steps over
And goes from sand
To boulder
And back again,
Holds today's finds.

The years have
Not been kind
Yet somehow,
He still seems content
With the contents
Of his sack
And his life.

I suppose
He's found
In simplicity,
But his
Is not
The life
For me.

Saturday August 20th, 2016

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: misty memory lane.

Had a fun, busy couple of hours this afternoon with 6 adults and 5 kids over to hang out in my parents backyard. It was nice catching up with high school friends I hadn't seen in a while, and I'm hoping to see most of them, and a few others, tomorrow afternoon for the family picnic at the beach.

Fingers crossed the weather chooses to cooperate with us.


I see the pictures and know
I should know all of these faces,
But names have become lost
In the misty in-between places...

Friday August 19th, 2016

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: the path in the woods.

Had a fairly quiet day here. Definite highlight was a walk in the woods with Kat, Max, and Miles just before dinner.

Having a fairly big get together at my parents place tomorrow afternoon. Hoping to get four friends and their children over here after lunch. Should be some delightful chaos.


I follow the path as darkness gathers around me. I follow the path as the creatures of the night begin to emerge and trace my footsteps. I follow the path onward, deeper; there can be no turning back now.

I follow the path.