I is For Island

I’ve moved from the aft to the bow of the ferry. Sandy and his friends are eating White Spot hamburgers with the kids in the cafeteria. I am restless. I wander around the ship lost in my own reveries. I imagine becoming this industrious baker of birthday cakes and pies. Canning the fruit from the fruit trees that dot our property. Baking cookies. Cooking mouth watering meals to entice my children and our friends to visit. But, is that me? When I have time will I embrace those long dormant domestic goddess traits?