I made it and all is perfect. Okay, with a glitch or two, but Scott’s rubbery legs have recovered after pulling my 350 pound wheelchair, immobile with a “brake error”, and me, and I am not a feather, up the airport gangway filled with anxious boarders. Who knew a new wheelchair with no brakes could have a brake-error? Anyhow, thanks to Brian and the van, Roseledge was achieved.
Next morning was a little cool and a lot foggy, but I, with my Darkstar coffee, sat blanket-wrapped on the porch, smelled the salt, imagined the 12 lobster boats and dinghies, and wallowed in the joy of being the only place in the world I wanted to be.
Later, Kris, an angel-in-training who needed a place to stay exactly when I had a need and place for her to stay, and I went to the General Store to discover a few essentials, e.g. Maine-made kettle corn and our wine of the summer, KRIS, surely the best and yes, the least expensive General Store option. Great good news is that I and my wheels can get into the Store and tool around the aisles with no major catastrophes.
Maybe the loveliest happening is running into people who have wondered and worried about the bookstore. The Friendship sloop group had a gathering and asked Susan, who rents moorings, who then asked me almost in the middle of the road, the Ladies Who Walk waved vigorously, the best ever, breakfast bagel sandwich maker stepped outside the bakery to say hello and tell me this is her last season which is very bad news and means I will up my morning indulgence to two/week to make up for lost time, my neighbor stepped away from the party to shout a welcome as with family, we walked down the hill to the Quarry Tavern, and Bobby stopped over and brought his special tomatoes which, atop cheese and crackers, make the best finger food ever.
Speaking of cheese and crackers and implying parties on the porch, we had the most perfect spontaneous event with long time summer friends who go back to my days as early morning desk person at the East Wind when I was nattering away and Ellen walks in with Steve and announces in no uncertain terms, “I know that voice,” and she did and still does, and long time bookstore friends, Tim and Kris, who go back to the days of Harry’s big car nicking his garage door opening two summers in a row, and Harry touching it up as quickly as he could carry in his groceries and carry out his can of paint and brush.
And to make perfect even perfecter, just before they came, Santa Fed Ex delivered an array of wine, cheese, crackers, and toppings to sigh for — and grin foolishly while wolfing down. A million thanks, Madeline, and HELLO, NORTH CAROLINA. So wish you were here.
More news soon about house acquittal, bookstore extravaganza, etc., I promise.