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The nor-east breeze wafting across the cove adds a chill to the air. Rachel kicks back, contemplating the panorama from the passenger terminal back into the Quay, with its concrete and glass towers preparing to light up the evening. The sun dips behind the bridge approaches, shadows gradually lengthen.
This is where the cruise ship out of Vancouver terminated, where she pats herself on the back for framing that tough decision, where her father’s admonition rankles still.
‘You’ll be back. Where will you be without family support, to move back in with when the going gets tough?’
Where would she be? Sous-chef at The Quay, sharing a one-bedroom apartment over in Macleay Street, her scarlet Vespa chained to the bollard in the lane. Where would she be? Right here, standing on her own two feet.
She tosses her gunny-sack over her shoulder and strides inside for an exhilarating Saturday evening.
3 comments:
Nothing like a woman standing on her own two feet :) Nice, Julie.
I like what you're doing with this blog, Julie. Even if no one ever read it, it must be very satisfying to you. What an artistic muscle-flexer! Inspiring to me, too. I've read several now. It's fun to look at the pictures and wonder what my story would be, then read yours.
Ah I've found a moment or two to savour these gems ... strong independent women are a theme of yours.
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