Oh That Magic Feeling

"I've fixed what I can fix," said Little Mac. "The water heater won't light and that's that till Monday. They want two hundred dollars to send a fellow today. Two hundred dollars! I remember a time when they wouldna done us this way."

He stalked back and forth with his eyes wide and glaring as if he might conjure those responsible at the propane company and pounce upon them.

"You never were much good at being housebound," said Big Bertha. "But I guess you've forgotten."

"Would it help if I remembered?"

"No, I don't guess so. But it always surprises me. A creature as tame as yourself, gentle, willing, always helpful, and winter prods you but once and suddenly you're wild as any lion."

She turned the page of her book and rocked once to hear the creaking of her oft-repaired rocker, that both soothed her and reminded her she was there. Her mind wandered too lately, though she would not admit as much to her husband, who counted on her.

"Pull a chair to the window and look out at the cove. You always like that."

"I do?"

"Try it."

The house was quiet but for the fire that even damped down all the way moaned and gasped in the woodstove, moved by every gust of the fierce norther embracing the chimney. Little Mac did as his wife had prescribed. After a while his breathing became more regular and his face softened.

"Bertie, you're right," he said. "You always know just what to do. 'Cause now I feel it, see? That magic feeling. Nowhere to go. And the wind on the water to watch. Painting it over and over every instant where it ain't froze solid. Making it wrinkle and smoke as it's driven, first out to the harbour then on to open sea to join the madhouse there. And the poor ducks, that have to go somewhere, doing their best to get into the cove, beaks tucked in, blown sideways and backward yet always re-forming their line, always paddling on, till the lee of the boathouse is theirs. All the haven they get. The poor ducks."

Nowhere to go, thought Big Bertha. Yes, it was a magic feeling. But you had to relax or it would pass you right by. She closed her book and rested her weary eyes. And then she just caught it. Or the scent of it at least. Of the magic. And that would do. And that would have to do.

9 January 2017
Texas Jim
Prospect, Nova Scotia (photo Hwy 333 en route to Peggy's Cove)
www.granitecoast.ca