One of the most miraculous things about a summer evening on the lake in northern Iowa is just how very long the sun stays up. A glance at the sky, its colors perfected by the paintbrush of nature, would suggest that it is merely dinnertime or just after but indeed it is well past that. The sky darkens slowly, each color fading gently into the next day, until finally at last you are left with only the light the stars have chosen to give you that night. From my perch on the dock, the gentle lapping of the water rocking the boats beside me lures me down to the edge and I place my feet into the warm cocoon of childhood. Unlike the Pacific which I have become accustomed to, this water does not shock me, does not insist I take the time to get used to it. No; this water invites me in, gracious in its temperature. Leaned back on my hands, I let my legs dip a little deeper into the lake, my ears perked up anticipating the small, quick footsteps that accompany children who’ve just discovered their mother has left the house. Knowing without a doubt those footsteps will come, I relish in the absolute calm that I’m bathed in.
Closing my eyes, I remember what it was like to be a little girl, jumping off this dock, fearless of the lake’s slimy texture, unaware of the creatures beneath the surface scattering upon our arrival into the water. One jump after the next, each of us siblings trying to outdo the other with our splits and our spins and our silliness. I remember the eager anticipation of getting my turn to get behind the borrowed boat and do my best to stay up on those tricky skis. The wind and water whipping my face as I stood upright for just a few precarious seconds, the laughter and cheers of my family hitting my waterlogged ears.
A rumbling, distant hum of a motor forces my eyes open and transported back to the present, I reach for my wine glass, the deep red hitting my lips, slinking down my throat, it’s velvety linger a welcome peer. I watch as the last few boats head back to their docks, sun-soaked passengers recounting with echoed laughter their day on the lake, waving to me with gusto when they pass by as if to say-isn’t this wonderful? I can’t help but smile and wave back and agree that yes, it is wonderful. Can I come back home now? Could I live here again? Could I live here forever?
The hypnotic spell is broken as quick footsteps startle me out of my dreamy daze. A small smile curls my lips and I turn my head towards the shore and see the determined lanky limbs of my daughter approaching me. What are you doing, she asks? Oh…just watching the sunset, I say. Can you believe the sun is still out this late? She says nothing, but rests beside me, her feet grazing the top of the darkening water and we sit silently for just a few precious more minutes until at last we bid the sun adieu.
No comments:
Post a Comment