Driftwood

What struck me were her eyes. When the first spark discharged itself, down at the docks where I had gone to look for (the name did fit) , driftwood. And there, barefoot, in shallow puddles, the rising sun, just stood, as if befuddled about the time. And dusk had come on silent soles to take its rightful place. It was the perfect and so timely medium to obscure those salty tears, that fell, without a sound, though hesitatingly into the sea. For one brief moment I had forgotten the purpose of my being, as well as of my evening presence. And as the darkness with its grief and promises descended, not unlike a blanket I heard a melody of words, 'almost as whispers, making their determined voyage into the stillness of that Horseshoe Bay. An eagle called, the sound of Old Nainaimo. It was an omen not to be dismissed, and with a rhythm only Gods could have created, untiringly, the sea sent curly foam onto the sand, where toes with chipped off scarlet polish were marking their territory. ' It is my pooch', she breathed, 'a terrier, and surely my only friend, he has been gone for seven days and stormy nights.' And thus, she had for one long week suspended all reality, and searched with patience, and great hope. I asked her then if she had prayed to ascertain the truth, enlist the helping hands of Providence. She nodded with her eyes, two jewels of a sadness, undescribable. The word precarious suddenly rolled off my tongue, and soon we searched, between the oily drums, and under jetties. So many miles and hours, the two of us. And only Sadness and Despair for company. We were the first to greet the morning as it rose from misty waves, urged on by painful rays of sunshine, a smiling melancholy, now bringing unwelcome chill. A seagull saw me cover her drooped shoulders with my checkered, all woolen winter vest, which flashed 'Au Canada', supported now by ample breasts. There was a tiny and ridiculously ramshackle, Fisherman's Café, near the old crane. And welcome warmth received us, two unlikely lovers. And after coffee she thanked me, briefly, and absentmindedly it seemed. She had to leave. I did not speak to her, not then, not later, and for that matter, ever again. I know, I know but did not understand, inside the chill of that cold morning. Important business did occupy me, until, again, I thought of collecting driftwood by the sea, to heat my cabin. Outside the Fisherman's Café there was a crowd, and some policemen. They'd found a body, washed ashore. She must be, so they reasoned, a proud Canadian, because Au Canada was blazing from her chest. And when at last they set the flimsy stretcher down behind the van marked Coroner a very nervous and hysterical Jack Russell Terrier was running circles around the body. It was disturbing in its obvious confusion. Though I'm not certain, as I was totally unable to see it all through sudden drapes of salty tears.