By MEG WHITE
For The Beachcomber
Nearly 30 years of life on Vashon has evoked my boundless gratitude for this Island, my community and home. I feel a deep and powerful connection to the land, light and Puget Sound, which involuntarily throw me into a state of amazement and awe, in the simple act of driving home, walking my land or sitting on the beach. I feel a unique appreciation for this community, strictly defined by the moat that surrounds us, pulling me round and round to a profound sense of belonging.
My childhood summers on Bainbridge Island, filled with ferry rides, trail walks and years of swimming in the Sound, helped form the essence of my identity as an outdoor kid. I will always cherish watching the full moon rising as my mom and I looked east on Puget Sound, the brilliant night reflection headed straight toward us. Now, I celebrate full moon risings from Tramp Harbor and full moon settings from my bedroom window in early mornings. Facing west, I am thankful for the dark night skies filled with stars, silences punctuated by the screech of an owl or seals convening on Colvos Passage.
Silence broken by animal life mark the change of seasons. Forever I will be in love with the song of the Swainson’s thrush, arriving in May. The riotous coming of tree frogs on late February nights invites hope for the arrival of spring. Nights become noisy, as loud frog conversations break through the closed windows of my home.
Ever since travelling to India in 1980, where I watched women walking great distances to get water from a well, returning with the filled containers held gracefully on their heads, I have never taken water faucets for granted. We are blessed to be able to walk short distances in our houses for clean drinking water.
The essence of living on an island, accessible only by ferry, creates community and a strong sense of belonging for me. This is the best of small town life, when the UPS driver celebrates the same birthday as my daughter, when the postal worker who caned my dining room chair pulls me aside at the post office to share news of her family and when old Doc Eastly, who delivered children seasonally on his cart led by massive shires, later hires my seventh-grader to haul manure to raise money for her school.
Neighbors help me with computer problems, share tools and bring food when I am sick. Metro bus drivers raise money for AIDS awareness, pharmacists decorate the town with cedar garlands, and grocery clerks babysit our children. The local farmer plays his flute at the Saturday Famers Market when business lulls, and customers sincerely inquire of the health of Hazel the cow in her pregnancy, anticipating fresh milk in the spring.
My gratitude for Vashon stretches to Island marvels: the 1,500 pounds of artistic Halloween pumpkins at Minglement, the thousands of luminarias near the Jesus Barn on the winter solstice and the remarkable Rudolf the Reindeer pond fully lit in December.
It is easy to see that I am in love with our Island, this place, my community. And while many will soon sit at a table with friends and family and a huge meal, you may find me taking a walk in the woods, listening for birds or noticing the newest huckleberries that beg for my attention.
— Meg White, a psychotherapist, has lived on Vashon since 1977.
