Every morning started the same way for me. I brewed a cup of tea, watered my plants, did some light stretching, and then showered and dressed before it was time to go to work. Lucky for me, going to work only meant going down the creaky wooden stairs and letting myself into my office.
Having no commute gave me plenty of time to get through my morning routine. I stuck to it like a badger, convinced that the Zen of it all helped me manage my stress and take care of myself.
After my father had gotten sick, I’d been his primary caregiver for so long that I’d had to go to therapy to relearn how to take care of myself. He was better now, but I still firmly believed in the power of my routine.
It kept me sane, centered, and had given me a reason to get up every morning for a long, long time. There had been plenty of dark days when I’d needed to put one foot in front of the other to make it from one moment to the next. Knowing which foot to put where and when had certainly helped.
I didn’t like to dwell on that time in my life, but I did touch on it in my memories occasionally to remind myself that life could change in an instant. It wasn’t always sunshine and daisies, and when it was, I made a point of appreciating every good minute I got.
So, I smiled to myself when I woke up every morning simply because I’d woken up healthy and able to tackle another day. I was one of those people who literally stopped to smell the roses. My phone was filled with hundreds of snapshots of things like the wildflowers starting to bloom on the forest floor or beautiful sunsets over the water. I also took the time to feel the sun on my face before I even got out of bed in the morning—just because I could. And I knew just how damn lucky I was to be able to do it.
Life had already kicked me right in the butt once. It could be sneaky that way. If it ever happened again, I wanted the evidence and the memories of how incredible even the simple moments could be.
These thoughts were like my personal form of meditation, and I lingered on them for a few minutes before climbing out of bed.
The radio in my kitchen was set to start playing when it was time for my alarm to go off, which was usually right around the time I’d finished the reflection part of my routine and moved into action.
Once I’d done my stretches and gotten cleaned up, I dressed in a yellow maxi-skirt with boldly colored flowers on it, paired it with a white top, and tied my hair in a ponytail on top of my head. I grinned at my reflection, only adding a touch of mascara and a swipe of clear lip gloss before I was done.
A quick glance at the round clock above my door told me it was two minutes to nine. Right on time.
At nine on the dot, I was downstairs with my tea in hand while I unlocked the Tourism Center. A sunny spring Saturday was bound to bring tourists through the doors, and I couldn’t wait for the chance to tell people all about my hometown and everything it had to offer.
Mackinac Island was where I’d been born and raised. It was my favorite place in the world, and since most of its economy relied on tourism, it had made sense for me to do my part by taking a job at the Tourism Center.
I was a small-town girl through and through, and I was proud of it. All five hundred and something of the year-round residents felt like family to me. We were a close-knit community, and I wanted everyone’s businesses to thrive. Pointing tourists in the right direction and making sure they knew about every gem of a store was the only way I knew how to do that.
After making sure the door was propped open, I pulled up the blinds and walked over to the windows facing Main Street. Looking out over our manicured front lawn and across the dirt road where bicycles and horses went by, I waved at the some of the locals who came past while I sipped my tea.
There were no cars in this little island town. Ample parking was available on the mainland at all of the ferry docks for the tourists to park there before catching the boat over. I knew some might think it was unbelievably odd, but it was a big part of the charm of this place.
Mackinac was a safe haven, away from all the hustle and bustle of western civilization. It was a place untouched by cars, buses, trains, and planes. Well, most planes.
We had one airstrip suitable for propeller planes and small jets. From early January to mid-April, it was our only link with the mainland. An unthinkable situation for most, but yet another thing that made us so different from the vast majority of other small towns.
The air was clear and I could see Lake Huron from the window, along with the grassy slope on the other side. Later, in the early afternoon, couples would be setting up blankets there, bringing their books and picnic baskets to have quiet dates in their tranquil surroundings.
A pang shot through me when I remembered the days when I used to be part of one of those couples. It was so long ago that I barely felt those pangs anymore, but when I did, at least they didn’t cause crippling pain.
That had been a part of the time I liked to think of as the before. Before my dad got diagnosed with cancer. Before I had to start working three jobs while trying to maintain my grades as a senior in high school. Before I’d driven the boy I loved away with a lie so he would be free to live his life.
Back when William and I had been one of the couples spreading open a blanket on that slope, it’d felt like we were in the prime of our lives. I’d just started senior year, and even though we’d had drastically different views of what the future looked like, we were teenagers in love. We thought we’d figure it out and that we had all the time in the world to do it.
That was when real life had come knocking. Beautiful, ugly, devastating, and joyous, we’d thought we’d seen it all. Oh, to be young and naïve again.
Actually, scratch that. There was no way I wanted to be young and naïve again. Sure, the part where my dress for Homecoming had been my biggest worry and trying to think of a place to be alone with William so I could kiss him until my lips went numb had been fun.
On the other hand, not having to worry about dresses at all and having a place where I could kiss whomever whenever was much better. Not that I’d kissed anyone in a long, long time. So long that I probably ought to have been embarrassed about it. But the point was that if I wanted to roll around making out with someone all night, I now had a door that could lock and a bed that wasn’t under my father’s roof.
Yep, being young and naïve is definitely not all it’s cracked up to be.
Smiling as I shook my head at myself, I turned around and began sorting flyers on the shelves instead of weighing up the pros and cons of adulthood versus youth. God knows adulthood comes with its own challenges.
Every business in town had brochures here, and I made sure every local attraction was organized into the right section. Sorting and refilling kept me busy enough that my thoughts were soon forgotten.
It was going well until Mildred came hobbling in. She was my boss, a sixty-five-year-old woman with the temper of a toddler—and the height of one too. Her arthritis was just as bad as her moods.
As she leaned on her cane and scowled at me, I committed what had to be the worst offense possible in her books. I had the audacity to smile and give her a cheerful greeting.
“Good morning, Mildred. How are you doing today?”
Her scowl didn’t go anywhere, but it never did. “Why are you always so happy?”
“There’s nothing to be unhappy about today.” I shrugged and gestured at the open window, my bright smile firmly in place. “The sun is shining. The world is turning. The day is about to begin. It’s a perfectly good day.”