As usual, I’m first on board the ferry to the mainland.
I grab a table, throw my coat and book bag on one seat, sit on the opposite bench, my backpack next to me. I spread my books around, open my borrowed computer and get to work.
A few people pause as they pass, but no one asks to join me.
Every Thursday, I have two hours in the morning and two during the return trip when I can study.
With six kids at home, and a waterman husband who’s at sea for days, community college is my salvation.
And eventually, my way out.
(Written for Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. November 29, 2013.)