Dawn over Duke Point

August 2, 2016: A cold Canadian morning dawns over Vancouver Island, off the west coast of British Columbia. I'm wearing a cozy sweater and blinking vacantly at the orange lights illuminating the ferry terminal at Duke Point. I'm back on the island after several months of absence. A resident of Florida, I do believe it is a cold morning-- but my dad, a Canadian resident since the early 90s, is wearing shorts. I ramble on about the philosophical implications of paleontology until he interrupts me to go use the washroom.
I breath in deeply and stare sorrowfully out at the softly illuminated horizon. I'll be back in two weeks, and then gone again to Florida. It will be at least a year before I make it back to Canada again, so I'm savouring this trip. A glaucous-winged gull calls mournfully over Nanaimo Bay and elegantly beats its narrow, grey wings to drift away from a youthful juvenile gull. There's a lot to take in overhead. The sky has contrasting shades of grey and dark blue patterning a starless sky with a soft, clumpy striping, as if the paint was drying as the brush strokes streaked the atmosphere.
It's going to be a great two weeks, backpacking the Canadian Rockies with my parents and sister.