Mary Ann Hayes

I woke in the middle of the night, sometime around three a.m., and heard it. The waves softly lapped the shore, a gentle synergy between the moon and the earths gravity. I could almost feel my body in like motion. We are, after all, sixty percent water. That moon. It was shining in my eyes. An enormous orb of light. I’m am grateful we have no need for curtains at our house. I’d hate to block it out.

Wind chimes played an uncertain tune, a breeze moved through the trees, leaves tinkled together, a bird called. What bird is out in the middle of the night? I wondered. I only think of owls, but this was certainly not an owl.

My eyes closed and sleep began to reclaim me – but that’s when I heard it. That deep swooshing sound like water gushing up from the bottom of a barrel. Would I be able to see it? Would anyone else? I forced myself out of my cozy cocoon an stepped outside. Listen and watch. There! In the moon light – the lumbering beast rose gracefully above the surface of Port Susan and spewed a mighty spray of water high into the air. He dove down into the blackness and waved goodbye with a splash of his tail.

I was awe struck. Like the only person in the whole universe to see such an incredible sight silhouetted in the moonlight. I ran back inside to grab a blanket. Standing alone on the deck in the dead of night I could no longer see it, but I hear it again, more distant now as it journeyed farther south. There it was, once again, and then it was gone. I was nearly in tears and wished Patrick were there to share it with me. My heart was full of joy. I realize what a blessing it was to be in this perfect place at this exact moment. I reluctantly went back inside, locked up, and snuggled deep down, once again, in my cozy cocoon.

Later,

Mary Ann