Living on the water means that, nights, we can take walks on the quay while the stars hang low and bright over a city of twinkly lights. There is one star in particular, lower and brighter than the others, straight ahead, and at the tip of a pointing finger.

Living on the water means that, afternoons, we can stroll through the mishmash of Birchgrove waterfront architecture to the wharf, and take the ferry downtown. This afternoon, we picnicked with fish and chips on the lawn outside the MCA, while the gulls closed in on us. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I have no love for seagulls, these Dr. Evil birds with mean, beady eyes. I called “Kla!” at them while gesturing madly with a plastic fork, but they are hardened criminals, shrugging down low to swoop in and steal a potato scallop. CC says their brash nature is because they live on the open sea and have to deal with whales.