Jenny Reunites with Aunt Doris

(Part 3. of the Jenny Bucket series)

Vancouver, 2022 / Photo by RCS

Flying out of PDX to Vancouver, on Air Canada, holding hands with Will, smiling and drinking First Class Pino Noir wine. Viewing the Cascade Mountain range over the right wing of the plane, Jenny felt euphoric. She knew her life wasn’t changing, it had already changed just by having Aunt Doris back in it. Her heart had grown wings. She was flying to see her auntie with her new boyfriend by her side, him reading a book of Alan Watts essays up among the clouds. Jenny felt like she was playing herself in the movie version of her life. All life comes down to moments, she thought, sitting way high up over the invisibly drawn and mapped out border between the United States and Canada. Our lived are a string of moments strung together, made to be connected like a string of beads, lasting for a lifetime. She looked out the window; Vancouver spreading out just below the left wing. Jenny loved the feel of the airplane tilting as it began its descent. Holding hands and wheeling luggage, Jenny and Will stepped through the sliding glass doors at Vancouver International Airport. On the sidewalk, breathing Canadian air, Jenny spotted an Uber Driver holding a cardboard sign with her name written on it in a bold black marker. The young Asian man, sporting a close-cropped haircut and wearing a gentle smile, seamlessly placed their luggage in the trunk. He gestured for them to please be seated in the backseat. Jenny began reading Aunt Doris’ address from a slip of paper she’d written it on when their driver tapped the side of his head and said, “Ms. Bucket’s address is up here. I met her through my grandfather. Fascinating woman.” The ride from the airport to the high-rise apartment building across the side street from the Sylvia Hotel took just over half an hour through midday city traffic. Having never been to Vancouver before, Jenny’s eyes consumed every passing building, door frame, highway overpass, tree, person, dog, grass traffic dividers, birds in flight, before Benny passed their destination and drove a short way into Stanley Park. He wanted to show them how close they were to such a vast network of trails and tall Douglas Fir, Red Cedar, and Western Hemlock trees. Footsteps away from one of the most perfectly placed city parks in the world, Stanley Park has a network of trails made for casual hikes and day hikes. The views of nearby mountains seem to loom over the Vancouver skyline, and the late afternoon light made lemon, honey, and lavender pastels glow above skyscrapers and mountains. So many feelings coursed through Jenny, as Benny turned the wheel and took them out of the park and curved into the wide circular driveway in front of Aunt Doris’ apartment building. She and Will attempted to help Benny carry their luggage into the lobby and onto the elevator, but he wouldn’t loosen his grip. “Ms. Bucket wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.” The three of them rode the gold-colored and mirrored on every side elevator up to the forty-fourth floor, where Aunt Doris owned the entire floor. Jenny stepped closer and ran her fingers over her aunt’s heavy wooden door, and rubbed the brass knocker. At the same time, Aunt Doris opened the door, looking just a bit older, Jenny thought to herself. With a dash more life wisdom contained in her eyes. Her long gray hair was wrapped by a multicolored scarf. Multiple strings of dark beads hung around her neck. Her charcoal gray dress flowed almost to her feet, and her footwear was a well-worn pair of pink and white Hoka running shoes. Silver and Onyx bracelets dangled from her left wrist. She smiled at Jenny in a way as familiar as Jenny’s own face in her morning mirror. How good to be feeling Aunt Doris’ calming and wildly flowing energy again. They embraced and felt joy in each other presence. Time stopped, Then started up again when they simultaneously let go and took in the whole of each other. Aunt Doris gestured behind her at Will and Benny. “Come in, come one, come all,” she said. “Welcome to my home and sanctuary.” Upon entering, Jenny first noticed the wall of tall windows facing southeast and offering the same magical view her aunt had vividly described over the phone—the Olympic Mountain range, on the US side of the border—with peaks covered by snow and half-covered by low flying clouds one sees in Chinese scrolls in museums. To wake each morning and see a place where mountains and clouds meet up and talk to each other throughout the day, it sure was a long way from the Lakeland backyard where they’d last set eyes upon one another. Jenny was amazed by the wall of windows at the far side of the enormous room. Beyond the ceiling being higher than seemed architecturally possible, the windows  showed one an entire universe of momentarily changing sea, mountains, and sky. She took her aunt’s hand and led her over to the windows, while saying over her shoulder, “Will, Benny, let’s have a looksee at the view.” “Excellent beginning,” Aunt Doris said, and turned and headed toward the kitchen. “You go on ahead. I’ll be with you, after I’ve made a pot of tea for us.” Jenny was finally with her aunt again – her Auntie Doris, who’d been enveloped in rumors and myths, most, quite likely made-up by herself. The three of them, Jenny, Will, and Benny stood looking out the windows at the Olympic Mountains, far across the Strait of Juan de Fuca over at the blue-violet landscape of the United States. Close enough to make out snow-topped peaks and mountain crags, and far enough away to feel the distance. Benny spoke in a whisper, telling Jenny and Will he’d leave them with Ms. Bucket, and their luggage was placed by the front door. As if she were endowed with superpower hearing, 222-year-old Aunt Doris hurried into the wall of windows room, went up to Benny and said, “Piffle, Benny. You’ll stay for tea, or I’ll let your grandfather know you refused my hospitality. And do you know what you’ll hear?” Benny shook his head ever so slightly. “It’s not what I’ll hear, it’s what I won’t hear. I’ll never hear the end of it, Ms. Bucket.” “Truer than true,” Aunt Doris said, while carrying the wooden tea tray, loaded up with a large teapot filled with steaming Matcha tea, and four non-matching teacups, into the next room. Where she sat herself at a window seat, next to a large green-eyed black cat comfortably lounging on a fluffed-up pillow. As full of light as the large living room was with a wall of windows – the tearoom, at one-third the space, was lit by hundreds of candles of every size and shape, standing up in bowls, candlesticks, and plates and saucers. The walls on three sides were decorated by massive Chinese wall hangings, and one museum-quality Medieval tapestry. Dim lighting set  back inside the ceiling brought out the shadows and forms of each art piece, making Jenny think of the mountains and rivers she’d seen far below on her morning flight, to be where she landed. The farthest faraway place she’d ever been from Lakeland, Florida. And already she knew it was the most wonder-filled place she’d ever been in her lifetime. And she’d been here, for what, less than two hours?