Majestic blues penetrate our souls on our first moment of arrival. The district smell of the ocean pierces our nostrils as we turn away yearning to see the vista but escape its odors. The lapping of the waves eases the driving aches out of my neck and shoulder that have been stabbing for hours. With my parents riding side saddle their comments come as wafts in the wind, "Kathryn, your driving too fast and too close to the next car." I take pride in my driving expertise and believe the smoothness of the trip wasn't appreciated. We arrived in Hope, just in time for me to order some oatmeal, as 2 slices of cantaloupe wasn't going to satiate the simplest of souls. My father was always honest with his wishes and ordered a Big Mac as if it was the last one he'd ever order. My mother was a guessing game, she never liked what my father would order, but hesitated getting what she really wanted, this was her curse.
We'd planned on taking highway 7 but then decided against it when the tourist guide in Abbotsford was greatly suggested that it would be "way....too....long... in her 20 year old wisdom...and besides she said, what for?" as if we'd lost our minds.
We were to meander along the coastal route of Vancouver oohing and awing at all the homes architectural marvels yet that turn came and went along with the light house that never made itself present.
Roberts Creek was truly a stones throw from the port up a lovely deeply forested road that appears on the map to be secluded, that is except for the hundreds of people that live here and are never seen. Each house is nestled into densely forested woods, shrew over in vast amounts of black berry bushes, holly and thistle. No home the same for in God's time their was choice, diversity and no universal paint that was on sale for home exteriors at the same time.
With mom and dad nestled into the Adirondack chairs overlooking the ocean a few meters away Hal and I busied ourselves with unpacking. A stroll along the beach in high tide revealed tens of aqua,violet and mauve clam shells colors no canvas could duplicate, flowers hung from branches begging to be photographed and fifteen shades of green canopied the foliage. Nature had arrived, with contrasts to take us to the moon and back.
We feasted on local fish, vegetables, and home bought cookies, our first of 40 days. I don't like to say that Hal and I gave up anything for Lent, for it is truly nothing in compared to what the Lord gave us, but perhaps to mention that we withheld from cookies, chocolate and cake and thus to indulge in a cookie was delightful, flavours burst forth that otherwise might have seemed mundane. Life was grand as we watched the sunset for hours from the upper balcony. The lapsing of the ocean gently caressing us to sleep at night, all was right in the world.
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