Our lives on a daily basis are allowed, aided, shaped, contrived, permitted by the ongoing convention of a fleet of rapidly aging, somewhat dilapidated vessels, quite unsuited for the purpose of being the life blood of an ongoing, ever growing island community. The very distancing that keeps this place idyllic, exclusive, adorable, desirable, is the most tangible reasoning for the constant decline of this rocks viability as a thriving colony.
As fortunate but somewhat petty residents, we are inclined to bemoan the besmirching effects tourism, in truth the only industry able and ever liable to support the amenities we all enjoy so magnanimously. Our thanks is grudging, dragged forth painfully, disagreeably, spoke behind masking palms to mitigate any obvious show of gratitude or sullen acceptance.
I am a resident; I consider a decade enough to claim that permanence. A purposeful lifer, with desire and intent to exist and depart neath Orcas skies. Near rare a commodity as that great beast that shares my affiliation.