Watch the Cruise Ships Go By!

That's what they say in Campbell River when they want you to buy a house with an ocean view. "So close you can hear the cruise ships go by." "Watch the Cruise Ships Go By!" Really, like it's important. Like it's a bonus. To watch the demons of inequity, to watch the sewage spewing things filled with people eating a lot of food. But wait...now I have one of those cruise ship watching houses. As if that's the only thing you see...forget the whales, the eagles, the barges with strange cargo, the barges with sawdust, the barges and the barges and the tug boats. The tug boats with rubber wrapped around their hull as high as fancy climbing shoes but with the heft of a mountain hiker. Small boats all engine towing barge and barge and barge. Forget the sporty boats in the summer zipping around like they're all busy and that. Forget Quadra Island and the sun that holds it in it's golden glow each sun set. When the sun is actually out to set. And the rainbows - we've killed rainbows - but they still can look good and astounding and call your kids and take a picture. But forget all that. The changing coldness of colour of ocean. The smoke from what fire at Cape Mudge. The tides ripping your heart out and taking a few boats with it. The tug against the tide slowly slowy stuck and slowly then gone. Forget all that. Cruise ships go by. Once twice a few times a weekend. I was prepared to hate them. Some of the hate still lingers. But then...at night...I leave my office and walk out to black window and ocean and darkness and street lights and giant there, filling the window, taking nothing but reflection with it down the passage. Reflection of a thousand small lights, moving slowly and without sound down the passage. Surreally large. It looks like a space ship that's OK to be there. It's like slow slow slow fireworks with the sound off. No wake, only reflection of it's layers and height of lights. It is a cruise ship at night and it rocks me every time I see it.