The morning is gray and cold when I wake up to the door opening. Yesterday was gray and cold as well. I imagine tomorrow to be much the same. With the wind and the cold settling into the door frames and floorboards my door has been swinging open and shut all night. No matter, it comes with the weather.
The clock says 4:15. I reach for my extra blanket and roll over.
I hear Andrew stirring across the hall, though I haven’t heard his alarm. The shower turns on. It is now 6:11. We will be a little late this morning. I hit snooze at 6:15 and enjoy my extra five minutes. The morning is cold and my bed is warm.
I hear Emily and realize I must get up. Have to set up breakfast. I tumble up the stairs and laugh at us. Today we are ‘island chic’- unkempt hair tumbling at crazy angles, sleep in our eyes, tousled clothing. We finish setting up and wash our faces, comb our hair, straighten out as the coffee kicks in.
One week left on the island. I remind myself of this as I assist guests and sweep the floor and listen to nonsensical babble over the backdrop of banjo music at the highest possible volume playing in the kitchen. You haven’t really witnessed a true amateur showing until you’ve watched grown adults having difficulties navigating a gratis breakfast buffet, so we have to keep dining room music a little detached to keep them focused. I smile, because it is a bit funny. Humanity is hilarious, if shambly, first thing in the morning.
I look outside, watching a friend fishing on the dock. The sky hasn’t changed. It could be 4:15am, 4:15pm, or any other time. It’s an odd feeling. I let it sweep over me. It is groundhog day. It is my first day, my last day, my best day, my worst. It is 1912, 1948, 1988, 2016, 2031.
Time speeds up and slows down. I am just swept along in the ride.
Such is life on the island. fleeting.