Younger daughter and I are back in Victoria for another summer, as Persephone escapes Hades for eight all-too-brief weeks. However, getting away from the Kingdom of Shades doesn't mean avoiding ghosts. I've mentioned this before, but I lived long enough in Victoria that every street has a memory, sometimes layers of memories.
Needing to get younger daughter home quickly as fatigue and autism overwhelmed her, I let Google Maps dictate our route home as I hurried through the warmth of Canada Day Eve, younger daughter trailing me like Euridice. I thought the way would be new, but every turn was familiar: the house where I first kissed the Resident Fan Boy, the take-out catering shop that was the first clue that a friend was dying. (Instead of home-made salads, she brought dishes from this establishment to two potlucks the last summer before she died.) I turned a corner and saw a school where I had done an observation during my education practicum, and caught a glimpse of a park where elder daughter had played softball as a little girl.
The sun is still setting in the northwest one week after the solstice. Victoria is almost exactly one degree north of Ottawa's latitude. The sun set at 8:54 last night in Ottawa, but not until twenty minutes after nine here in paradise. It was still golden bright as we scuttled past the church where elder daughter attended preschool.
We hurried into the house we're sitting for July and locked out the evening shadows. There are fresh British Columbia raspberries in the fridge. I don't suppose those will affect the length of my stay.
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