Moon over Madeline Island by Jay Gilbertson

It was worth it just to see your expression.” She sighs.
    â€œYou’ve been so good to me. I wish you could’ve met my folks, they would have gotten such a kick out of you,” I say for the hundredth time. Some things you need to say over and over.
    â€œLet’s go out and bid goodnight to the moon. Shall we?”
    â€œI have a better idea. Grab a couple of coats off the back door and meet me out front.”
    â€œWhat the hell?”
    â€œRuby darling…do as you’re told!”
    I blow around the corner of the cottage in the duck, stop to pick up Ruby, who’s standing on the stoop in the glare of the headlights with her thumb up for a ride, and down into the moonlit lake we splash. The stereo is blasting Billie Holiday singing “God Bless the Child” and we’re singing along. I couldn’t imagine it getting any better.

C HAPTER S IX
    T he next morning I wake early, throw on my robe and head downstairs for a coffee fix. For some reason I’m rushing, so I catch myself halfway down the stairs and slow my movements, trying to notice everything for future reference.
    â€œHello Rocky. I wondered where you ran off to last night,” I say as I walk into the kitchen. I pet his purring head and give him fresh water. Filling my mug full of java, a cat mug of course, I head to the dock. The day is beginning to take shape and it’s leaning toward the cloudy side. When the sun peeks out, it’s like a burst of color that quickly slinks behind bruised-looking lavender clouds.
    Sitting down at the end of the dock, I slip out of my furry slippers and dip my feet into the cold water, which sends a wake-up shock from my painted toes straight to my heart. Nice way to get it pumping and my mind thinking and freezing my ass off all at the same time!
    So much has happened. I’m feeling odd inside. This morning the cracked, chipped mirror in my bathroom upstairs reflected a different me. I look, well I can’t seem to put my finger on it, but there’s a change somewhere.
    I’ve read, in one of my many read-this-and-be-a-better-person books, that when you grow or try new things, that in turn can lead you to think new things. Which in turn allows you to do new things. Maybe “allows,” is a silly word; it’s more like you just have to or you’ll burst.
    I’m changing and it’s so nice. I’d actually like to seriously consider a life on Madeline Island. How’s that for being steadfast and true? Like saying, I’d love to do this or that, maybe, possibly, I’ll let you know . I’m ready to move, not really away from, though; it feels more like to.
    This new ritual of putting my feet in the water seems to clarify my thoughts. Sometimes I can get to thinking and doing about a zillion things all at once. Makes even me crazy. Something as simple as being connected to the water brings my internal rhythm down a notch or two.
    I hear the familiar clatter of dishes inside the cottage and realize it’s time to say good-bye to the lake. I’ll settle for “see you later.” Rising slowly, stretching up toward the sky, I slip my wet feet into my Pooh slippers. I dash up the dock and through the screened porch door, which slaps behind me. Stopping on the veranda, I turn and give the door a swing to hear that wonderful porch-door-slam noise again.
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    We close up the cottage, roll all the shades down around the porch and then give every door and window a final check. After all the window-latching and door-pulling, we light up and sit down on the back-porch stoop for a good smoke.
    My Levi’s are turned up, showing off my flower-covered sandals. My hair is a mass of curls, knotted in back. I push up my nose, raising the Jackie O sunglasses that eventually slide back down. Ruby is in a long summer dress, her wrists loaded with bracelets. She reaches up to adjust leopard sunglasses, her green earrings glittering in the