Day 24: No Regrets

24 days in, I woke up with my first regret.

I really and truly regretted not fighting for a stop at the Butchart Gardens in Victoria the day before. Recovered from my cold, I stood in the shower that morning and fought back tears. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how badly I’d wanted to see the gardens I’ve heard so much about from my parents. We were supposed to drive back down to Seattle—El Jefe wanted to see Pike Place without the weekend crowd—but that plan had already been mostly thwarted by a complete lack of available hotel rooms any closer than Burlington.

“Look,” I said, toweling my hair dry as I stepped out of the hotel bathroom, “I know it’s not in the plan, and I know it’ll crunch us for time, but I really want to ferry back over to Victoria to see the gardens. I think I’ll regret it if I don’t see them.”

Silly as it sounds, the tears fell then. Earl came over and wrapped her arms around my waist, “Of course, we’ll go, Mommy. I want to see them, too!”

El Jefe agreed as well, so we loaded up the car and headed back to the FERRIES!!!

It was a precarious start to the morning. We were all off kilter somehow, trying to pull it together to be as completely in the happy moment as we were yesterday, but it wasn’t clicking. The closer we got, the more convinced I became that I’d made a mistake. By the time we got back to the ferry after the gardens, we’d all surely be at each other’s throats.

I tried to make El Jefe laugh with me about the one designated smoking area 90 miles from anything else in a distant corner of the parking lot.

I tried to advise them on chess and only screwed them both up.

I made Earl race the entire length of the gardens to find her lost brand-new-wallet, making us late to a boat tour, only to realize it was in my pocket the entire time as we raced back across the gardens to the dock to clamber aboard.

On the boat, we started to find a rhythm again. What it is about water? The peacefulness? The ease of smooth waters? The near-silent hum of the electric engine that allowed us to hear birds and branches?

Butchart Gardens grew out of an exhausted quarry and cement factory. The remnants of the old piers and docks, as well as one of the old smokestacks, can still be seen from the cove.

Fun fact about Canadian Federal waters: You can buy a buoy and drop anchor anywhere you’d like for as long as you’d like so long as the vessel floats for free. The result? A bunch of abandoned, deteriorating boats, just hanging around, dilapidating daily, sometimes in coves side-by-side with yachts and houseboats.

Also, algae=jellyfish, so lots of algae=jellyfish plumes. We saw hundreds of thousands of jellyfish in the waters beneath us, just under the surface.

After the boat ride and our inordinate excitement over jellyfish, we were all a bit more relaxed. We strolled through the Japanese gardens, winding around the paths and over the bridges and stepping stones.

We walked the rim of the Sunken Garden (in the old quarry pit) and gawked at the colors and blooms.

Earl spied the carousel on the map, so that was our next stop. After we all mugged for the camera, of course!

The carousel was beautiful and fast and just what we all needed to shake off the last of our odd moods.

The day was racing away from us, and there was a yummy looking restaurant in the original house. We lucked into both an available reservation and a patio table with a beautiful view of the greens around the Italian garden. Perfect for a toast to Harvey and Earl and a send-off dinner for El Jefe, who flew out the next morning.

The food was spectacular enough that the bees really really really buzzy pllleeeeaaaasssseeee wanted some of my lamb, but I refused to share.

We savored the flavors, the light, and the company. All three of us talked about how much we’d enjoyed our time at the gardens, how we were very glad we’d detoured for the stop. A raccoon raced across the green, and the sun dropped down behind the trees.

We had to race to catch the last ferry again, but not before we rubbed Tacca the Drooling Boar’s nose for good luck!

It must have paid off. We made the ferry with time to spare, and when we arrived at the U.S./Canadian border at 11:30 at night, there was hardly a wait at all, despite only one lane being open.

Earlier, as I was working conditioner through Earl’s hair to tame the tangles from whale watching, she sighed a deep, sad sigh. “I don’t want to leave Canada. It’s just so much more…civilized here.”

I didn’t want to leave, either, but this is home, and even if we’re still 2,500 miles away from actual home, it’s good to be home.

We will be back, though!