Departing Iris (an excerpt)

 The crunching of the oyster shells beneath her thin flip flopped feet had always been a comfort to Iris.  What annoyed the vacationers were a sweet amusement to her.   As well as the her loose strands of hair that without fail would get held prisoner in her mouth or nostrils from the constant gusts off the bay.  As a child, she kept her hair short for her mother's sanity.  But as maturity took hold and there were hair trends to attempt, the wind was an evil arch enemy. She had always hated her hair anyway and Iris decided the wind was an evil ploy to make her social life non existent. Or at least her self confidence. But now, after everything,  the wind as well as the cracking shells and the salty air and the smorgasbord of smells were all part of her.  Part of the delicate puzzle of her existence.  These things were expected and that was normal.  And Iris had always held tight to the  "expected" without the anticipation part.
   She didn't have a plan for today.  She rarely had one these days,  A Purpose.  It was mid morning, still early enough before the honking tourists and delivery trucks started taking over the harbor.  Only a few exercise fanatics along the narrow, cracking roads.  No one took notice of her.  She had always enjoyed riding her bike, thru town, past the pier, down Chequessett Neck almost to "The Gut".  She'd push herself a little further every time. Her goal was of course to get all the way to Jeremy's Point.  But she'd get achey or hungry or convince herself a huge storm was coming and she'd quickly turn her bike around and head back to town.  But she had not been on a bike, well, in a long time.
 
.....but something happened... she kept forgetting.