Debra Moore

The World According to ME

My Story



Everyone has a story, one that they are known for. One that always comes up at parties and get togethers. ‘Deb! Tell the story about the …….’

Can’t give it away that easily, can I? I have had complete strangers approach me to ask if it was really me in that story. So you shall just have to do some reading.

We have discussed poo, things pulled from poo, and various other topics that leads me to believe that you are ready for my story. And no, there is no poo, just a story of a woman seeking her privacy and not finding it. At least, not on that day.

The house I lived in before coming to the forest was right on a huge bluff overlooking Holmes Harbor. Holmes Harbor is a lovely inlet, picturesque as it gets with a dramatic and dangerous drop off directly in back of this house. The deck is also back there and was one of the main reasons I chose to live there. The little house was a rectangle, and the ‘front’ door was actually on the side of the house behind a cyclone fenced yard. No one ever bothered me, the Boof was on task. Result? Wonderful privacy. Because of this cliff I was eye level with many eagles, hawks, owls and other birds soaring along from the beach far below. Many days I had a bald eagle level with me, hanging on the wind, effortless and hardly a feather moving as the updraft from the cliff kept him afloat. And close enough to see those searing eyes on me. Transforming stuff.

So on this day, a glorious summer with a soft breeze barely there, the view was spectacular: all the way down the bay and into the strait with Baby and Camano Islands clearly visible. These are the days north westerners live for: the clarity of sky, water and sun come together illuminating the mountains in the distance producing striking vistas of impossible beauty. I cannot say this enough. This place alters your chemistry.

I was in the shower and as I toweled off I heard a sound. Odd. Rather loud, but a rather muffled and rhythmic ‘bop bop bop.’ It seemed to go right through my ears and up through my feet. As I got dry and started up the hall to the deck to investigate here came the Boof, ears back, slamming her puffy butt through the dog door, ears flat on her head. Without slowing she scooted to the bedroom. Hmmm. Now I like my privacy. Above all else I like the idea of being sans clothing with no possibility of being disturbed or seen. Call it a quirk, that’s fine. No one on either side could see me as I was protected by large cedars, a perfect screen. The view over the deck is almost unfettered with two large picture windows, one being a slider.

I approached the slider and stood there, hands on the window, peering around trying to make sense of the sound that was now slightly familiar. And yes, I was completely naked. My mature body type is rather generous, not as obese as many, not as thin as many more.

Within two seconds, without warning, the sound became a roar and as I continued to watch I saw the unmistakeable rotors of a helicopter coming straight up below that bluff like a flying saucer, quick as a hummingbird! And there, as I stood and observed, were two helmeted Coast Guard trainees staring right at me from the open hatch. Took me about a second to drop like a boulder to the rug and begin a maneuver much like the training exercises for marines. You know the one, dropping down and crawling so as to avoid the barbed wire? I began to squirm and gyrate to move myself from sight but there was no way that chopper was going anywhere. And I am fairly certain that my movement was not smooth enough to encourage anything other than gaping mouths and extremely wide eyeballs. I finally made it over behind the couch where I lay, rug burned and mortified. And those Coasties? They stuck around for about 2 more minutes before making their escape. I can only imagine the conversation on that aircraft.

There were no reports of seared eyeballs or emotional trauma so I will assume they did not suffer permanent damage.

But somewhere, at another party or gathering, I am certain there is a story being told from their unique perspective of the unfortunate incident during a training run on Holmes Harbor.


2 thoughts on “My Story

  1. That was fun!

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