Ghost Ships

[There’s nothing like a good fog to set the scene for some storytelling. This next guest (@stefaniewrites) offers a snapshot of an experience at the Tall Ships in the rain. If you have a story to tell about the East Coast, please feel free to drop me a line by e-mail at kimberly.aliasgrace [at] gmail [dot] com or DM me on Twitter. I’m looking for submissions year-round and have spots upcoming in my schedule.]

By Stefanie Wilson

It was going to rain. I don’t find it rains as much here as people said it would. But when it does rain, it rains all day. To be perfectly honest—that’s my kind of rain. The kind you can plan for. You usually know it’s coming and you know it’s going to last. You can look forward to indoor activities. Curl up and read a book. Watch a movie. Without having to deal with the possibility that the sun might come out and upend your plans. That’s what it was like where we came from. It would pour for a few hours in the morning and then the sun would come out and taunt us, “It’s a lovely day now, you should come outside.” I was happy to shed that imperative and settle into full rainy days. But not that day. It was going to rain and I was going to be out in it.

We had planned to walk down to see the Tall Ships while they were docked. The girls love the masts and the sails, the painted hulls—in truth, the pirate-like quality of the ships. We had planned to walk down because we knew the parking would be crazy and, well, because we could. We walk everywhere we can now that we live in Halifax. Now that we’re not forced into the car by distance and roadways built without thought to pedestrians. And that day, we were going to walk in the rain.

What’s a little rain? The girls would be cozy and dry in the double stroller—they’ll still squeeze in to humour us. I don’t know what I’ll do once they decide they’re done with it. The distances we usually walk are just too long for their little legs—often an hour each way, at mommy and daddy pace. So, we need to take advantage of it while we can. Rain or shine.

We started out into the damp and misty air. We’re glad we did. The ships were incredible. Like ghost ships hidden in banks of fog. The girls loved it. So did we. But during our quick duck into the Henry House—to fortify ourselves for the trek back home—it started to pour. We looked at each other with twinkling eyes. And decided to embrace it. After all, we’re Haligonians now. And we did know it was going to rain.

Stefanie Wilson (writebrain.ca) is a writer who specializes in advertising, marketing communications and the like. She thinks a lot. Too much, really. She lives in a wonderful Halifax home with her patient husband and adorable daughters. She is grateful that Kimberly would let her voice her thoughts on her blog.