The alarm sounds. An arm reaches over to hit the button that silences the noise. A moment passes as an assessment is made of the temperature in the bedroom. Birds are chirping. Their celebrations of life echo through the fog of morning fatigue.
Muscles protest at the shift from horizontal to vertical. A face stares back in the mirror showing no thoughts behind weary eyes eventually hidden as the shower steams the mirror. Even uncharacteristically hot water does not instill vigor.
The bedroom climate is not a reflection of what is found when the front door opens. While the outside is not the cold, crisp morning dreamed of in the mind only now starting to turn over, neither is it the hot, humid hell that was expected. The brain coughs to life as the key turns in the ignition of the truck.
Miles pass under the wheels and caffeine molecules from a bitter brew start to course the blood. Sun streams through the window and flashing lights on a cruiser warn of a merge. A news recap has replaced the avian songs of just minutes earlier.
As the eyes scan the road looking for what the future will hold the brain joins the task. It is a symposium weekend and the reconstituting “I” comprehends that the day will entail being the assistant for Ben Lawry’s class. Plans for collecting the golden nuggets of information and technique are made.
I coast into Carl and Sam’s driveway to drop off a couple of boats brought down for guests. Carl and Ben are there prepping the trucks. Greetings are exchanged and orders taken as I mount back up and head for the bakery. The second cup of coffee, excitement at being part of a class I haven’t experienced and the lateness of the hour finish waking me up.
As I deliver the orders, the “I” only just reasserting its existence is merged into the “we” that is the shop. We are preparing to receive clients for Ben’s class, a tour for Rob and Dave, a rescue class for Carl and the normal inundation of renters. Boats are moved off trailers and racks. Plans shifted, clients organized and staff coordinated. It is the bustle of a new day in the height of the season.
Ben’s class starts and the “we” changes from shop staff to instructor, assistant and participants in the normal ebb and flow of OSKA. We begin the process of coordinating logistics, integrating our launch between renters and tours, figuring where we might have lunch and paying attention to the lesson. Somewhere just outside of the “we” I am trying to pick up how the course is delivered. After all, one benefit of working here is being exposed to other instructors and ideas in order to add depth to my own classes.
The shop bell peels through the morning air heralding the arrival of August and its people. We pull away from the landing.
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