When Christmas Came to Vashon

Living on an island has its challenges, but it also has its rewards, revealing special moments that speak to the kinship of isolation and the camaraderie of everyone being in (and on) the same boat.

While commuting by ferry creates bottlenecks and headaches daily, it also fosters a bond, an unspoken appreciation that someone else shares your daily round-trip odyssey. The smiles and nods to familiar strangers one day makes them friends. So when I returned to the island from a very long day in a less-welcoming place, I stood on the bow well before we reached Vashon Island. I savored that simple joy of returning home. The wind was bracing, the sky spun with gold and the Olympic Mountains seized the horizon and my attention.

On the open car deck, Christmas trees topped a number of vehicles. One Jeep sported a wreath on its grille, the kids behind its steamed-up windows singing spirited renditions of the season’s best between punches and squabbles. I smiled, their parents smiled. Their accompanying shoulder shrugs made me laugh. The cheeky choir continued the concert as we made our way to Vashon.

With the din of the ferry silenced, we docked and I disembarked, walking more than briskly toward the warm, awaiting bus. A stream of cars sped off the ferry and then one honked a toot-toot-toot. I turned in time to see Santa in an SUV waving to the walkers. I returned a smile, hand-wave and a hearty hat-tip. He sped up ferry hill and rode out of sight. I whispered, “Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!”

Yes, Christmas had come to Vashon. I just had no idea we’d share the same ferry.

— Tom Conway is a buddy to bulldogs, writer, grower of fruit and flowers, maker of pies, kitchen alchemist and seasoned hammock tester, and he thanks his lucky stars that he landed on Vashon Island.