I thought it was dead, that it had lived its small quiet life, and now it was dead and gone.

Fifteen years ago, new in town and grieving over the recent loss of my husband, I’d submitted “A Blind Eye” to the literary magazine at Peninsula College in Port Angeles, WA. Much to my delight, the story won first prize for adult prose and was published in the 1999 issue of Tidepools. Joining the other winners one afternoon, I collected a complimentary copy and participated in a reading in the school auditorium. And that was that. The story faded away.

Until just a few months ago when I received news that Tidepools was publishing a 50^th Anniversary issue and they wanted to include “A Blind Eye.” I sent them a computer file, though I wasn’t sure it would work. Nineteen ninety-nine was three computers ago. Luckily it was okay.

So … a couple of days ago, I boarded the Edmonds-Kingston ferry bound for Port Angeles. Ferry rides are one of my favorite pastimes. I never tire of being out on the water, especially on a sunny day.

Heading west on the Olympic Peninsula, the best rest stop is Port Gamble, an old company town for what was the longest operating sawmill in the country, Pope and Talbot, later Pope Resources. It’s been spruced up and repainted for tourists and local residents. The General Store has a wonderful restaurant and gift shop.

An hour or so later, “Hello, Port Angeles.”

Overlooking the Strait of Juan de Fuca, the campus of Peninsula College is beautiful, especially on a sunny day. I’d forgotten which hall the auditorium was in, but it wasn’t hard to find a knowledgeable young man to show me the way.

Once inside Maier Hall, I lined up to receive my copy of Tidepools, chatted with other writers, and found a seat in the auditorium. When it was my turn, I read from my story, “A Blind Eye.”

Here’s how it begins:

A rainy day, though the blank-faced sky pretended innocence, shining bright in the puddles and on the rain-slicked pavement. Behind the foggy windows of her Toyota, Natalie leaned across the steering wheel like a student driver. Looking straight ahead, she feigned invisibility. For the first time she wished she’d taken Cynthia’s advice and bought a white car; so common in Vila they’re almost invisible, Cynthia had said.

Without turning her head Natalie saw a group of Melanesian women carrying big multi-colored umbrellas—red, blue, yellow, and green in wedges like giant pinwheels. In front of le Privee Disco the women stopped and waited to cross, each one holding her skirt tight around her knees with one hand as though she were about to ford a stream.

If you’d like to read the rest of my story and enjoy all the stories, poems, photography, art work, and music in Tidepools 50^th Anniversary issue Volume Two, you can buy a copy while supplies last at bookstores in Port Angeles, Sequim, Port Townsend, Forks and Edmonds, WA, or you can order the kindle version for only $3.50 on Amazon.