Crystal & Calvina

A flash of memory from childhood - on the road from Yarmouth, we pass by a small wooden building, not much more than a shack, really, but with all the familiar markings of a locally owned and run store - inside will be dim and a little dusty with the smell of leather and tobacco smoke.  There's likely to be a glass display case of penny candy, a freezer of ice cream, a rack of cigarettes and a sit and stay bench with a spittoon at each end.  And in the back, tucked between the only two windows, will be a long, waist high cooler.  I lift the heavy lid and reach elbow deep into the icy water, retrieving a glass bottle of Coke and wedging it into the old fashioned opener on the side.  The metal bottle cap snaps off cleanly - I pay my nickel and drink it down in one long, continuous swallow, tasting almost unbearable sweetness and letting the carbonation nearly burn my throat.  Nothing could've been more perfect on a warm summer morning.  


We leave Weymouth and continue on -  Meteghan, Sandy Cove with it's brilliant blue sky'd view of the bay and the village, Little River.  The closer we get, the more my heart flutters at the familiar sights and how little has changed - each cottage and breakwater and boatyard seem untouched by time.  Finally, the deadly hairpin turn at East Ferry and I see Tiverton, sparkling in the sun across the choppy water.  Nana eases the old Lincoln to a stop and I race out, not able to stand one more second of being this close to home without the sun and the salt air. The ferry is halfway across, I can hear it's little motor chugging against the currents - it appears to be traveling sideways, as if it might be carried out to sea, but I know its path, know it will turn soon.  There's still time for a quick trip into the tiny East Ferry store, so nearly identical to the one in Weymouth.  This time I drink slowly, standing at the edge of road, counting the minutes to the ferry's arrival.  When the motor turns to idle, it will  dock and the crew will slam wire encased planks off onto the breakwater.  Get in the car, child, Nana calls to me roughly, pretending not to understand why I'm crying, It's almost time.  But I know that she's counted the cars that will drive off and will not start the Lincoln's engine until the scow is empty.  First on, last off, everyone knows, and ever so slowly the Lincoln crawls down toward the ferry.  Cap aligns the wheels with the planks and guides us on with hand gestures and a broad smile. Once the car is in place, it's secured with chains and Nana sets the hand brake - no one has ever forgotten the time the whale surfaced beneath the scow and as Cap liked to say, Very nearly upset the whole damn applecart.  Passengers are encouraged to stay in the cars for the crossing but we're the only traffic that perfect morning and as soon as we're headed for the opposite shore, I'm out and running for the side where Mac sweeps me up in a bear hug.  Welcome home, girl, he tells me, Been expectin' you.  Just before we dock in Tiverton, he will collect the fare from my now smiling grandmother and deposit me back in the Lincoln.


The last twelve miles seem to take forever but finally we're at the top of hill that overlooks the village.  It's a postcard view with the tide high and the water in the cove shining like diamonds.  Not a single thing has changed - I can see the ocean, the post office built on stilts over a the ditch, the roof of McIntyre's and another mile or two of dirt road to The Point.  If home is where the heart is, then I'm home.  Of all the places that I've lived no matter for how long, this is the only place attached to my soul.


I come back to myself and the present time in line at the checkout aisle of the local grocery store with Crystal, the checker, and Calvina, the bagger, both giving me doubtful looks.  My grocery cart is mysteriously jammed end to end and side to side with six packs of Coke in glass bottles.  


Drink much?  Crystal mutters, Guess ya'll be needin' some help out?  Calvina adds with a heavy sigh.


I can manage, I tell them with a smile.  Some days it takes way more than a couple of rude checkout girls to dislodge a dream.