20. Grandma’s Mountains

The morning air was warm, but a cool breeze blew from somewhere unseen and gently rapped the glass like surface of Lake Palestine. It’d be another hot day in a summer that had seen nothing but hot days, but the morning was just enough to breathe life into the hope that the most horrendous summer of recent memory was beginning to wane. The morning sun had begun to rise behind the lakehouse, casting long shadows over the rolling lawn. Soft morning rays of orange light diffused through the trees, and reflected back upon itself in the waters below.

Ed was already in the boathouse, preparing the boat for the day’s activities. Mary Ellen clasped her coffee cup and thanked god for mornings like these. Ducks in the lake laughed at one another.

Matthew was the first grandchild to wake up, or at least the first one to get out of bed. He was always an early riser and today was no different. He opened the screen door and sat down in a patio chair next to his grandma, his dusty blonde hair still a mess from a night of heavy sleep.

“Good morning, Matthew,” she said. She hid an extinguished cigarette under her slipper.

“Good morning, Grandma.” He smiled, and looked out over the lake. They sat in comfortable silence for a couple of moments.

“Are those hills or mountains,” Matt said, pointing to the gently rolling hills on the far side of the lake.

Grandma squinted her eyes, and pretended to examine the object of Matthew’s wonder. “Those are mountains,” she lied. She was born and raised in Colorado under the immense shadow of the majestic Rocky Mountains. “Those are Grandma’s Mountains.” Another white lie.

Matthew smiled and looked back out over the lake. The mountains were almost glowing as the green grass blanketing them reflected back the rising sun.

“Who you got there on your pajamas?” she asked, looking at the character jumping off his shirt. She knew full and well who it was, she just wanted to hear him say it.

“Superman,” he said, thrusting his arms into the air in mock flight. An easy transition from outstretched flight to a full on morning yawn and stretch.

“Oh, I like Superman.”

In the boathouse, grandma’s Superman was emptying the remnants of a large orange gas barrel into his boat. He screwed the lid back on, and looked up to the patio. Matthew was awake, or at least he thought it was Matthew. His eyes didn’t work like they used to, not as if they ever really worked great in the first place. It appeared as if Matthew was trying to teach his Grandma how to fly.

———————————————————-

“MacShack” was awake. Its floorboards rumbled under the heavily placed footsteps of the six cousins helping Grandmother prepare breakfast. The younger ones set the plates and bowls on the table, while the older ones filled those plates and bowls with scrambled eggs, pancakes, and dry cereal.

“The lake looks like glass.” Uncle John stood at the window overlooking the lake. He sipped his coffee. “There’s going to be some good riding today.” He was already in his swim trunks.

Although grandpa was still outside in the boathouse, the kids began eating. They sipped their orange juice, and poked each other with syrupy fingers.

———————————————————–

Having the opportunity to come to the lake more often than the other cousins, Josh was the most accomplished water skier of them all. While the other cousins could barely manage to get up on the skis, Josh was capable of pulling off some of the greatest feats in water sports history. He could jump a wave. He could turn around mid-ski. Sometimes he could do both at the same time. The other kids would look at him in amazement and pray that their teenage years brought such high rewards.

Matthew and his sister Katie would hang their hands over the side of the boat, and let their fingers bounce off the rushing water. Luke sat at the front of the boat, pretending to steer. No one in the boat was sure if it was sprayed lake water, or drool that dampened his chin.

Grandpa steered the boat over the middle of the lake. One hand worked the accelerator lever, the other held the Greek Fisherman’s Cap on top of his head. There wasn’t one drop of Greek blood in his entire body, but the cap made him feel like a sailor. And he hadn’t felt like a sailor all that much since he took exception to Emperor Hirohito bombing Pearl Harbor one quiet December morning and signed up to become one himself.

Josh wiped out, and sunk into the water. His life vest resurfaced him. “I think water just shot up my ass,” he said. All the kids laughed.

———————————————————–

Mary Ann, the oldest of all the cousins, chose to sit this boat ride out. She was on page number 143 of To Kill a Mockingbird, and was reluctant to put the book down. It was by far the best book her father ever recommend that she read, and it was not hard to tell why he liked it so much.

A nearby squirrel munched on an acorn, not all of 4 feet away from where Mary Ann sat. The squirrel threw down the acorn and picked up another one. He nibbled on it and threw that one back on the ground. It picked up one more and nibbled it.

Mary Ann looked over the top of the book at the squirrel. Squirrels always look the same. No matter where she went, a squirrel was a squirrel. This squirrel looked identical to the squirrel she saw next to the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington DC, which looked identical to the squirrel that used to feed on pecans outside her bedroom window in Houston, Texas. Mary Ann thought about the implications of that kind of uniformity.

The squirrel made eye contact with Mary Ann, froze momentarily, and then sprinted for a nearby tree, never dropping its acorn. Although she didn’t see it happen, Mary Ann could hear the squirrel ascend the trunk of a nearby pine.

———————————————————-

Rain clouds descended over the lake house in what seemed like a matter of seconds. Late summer storms could be like that. The clouds came in so fast and sudden that everyone on the boat got equally wet whether they had waterskied earlier or not. The cool rain felt just fine on their sunburnt backs.

The children ran into the lakehouse, each grabbing a towel that was waiting for them on the entry way bench. They called for first, second, third, and fourth showers. Pity the poor soul who called last shower, and had to sit in the air conditioned cabin with wet clothes on and then had to shower with the 5 seconds of hot water left in the waterheater. Josh was going to take a shower later, just in case the rain stopped and he got to go back out into the lake.

After their showers, the children headed to the basement to watch television. All but one were asleep within 45 minutes. Upstairs, in front of the Cowboys getting blown out by the Eagles, their grandpa wasn’t faring much better.

As quickly as they appeared, the clouds disappeared and the sun was back out in full force. If they got to it, the children had 2 more solid hours of daylight left. They ran outside and played every variation of keep away, tag, and hide and go seek they could come up with. Two large Oak trees served as home base, in case one was able to elude the grasp of the other players. Katie was the only one smart enough to use the wet grass as an advantage. The trick was sacrificing your jeans and going low.

———————————————————-

Grandpa and Grandma both worked on the evening meal. He with Bratwurst, her with baked beans mixed with a pinch of brown sugar. He with sauteed onions and sauer kraut, her with a bucket full of potato salad. He with the glasses of water, her with iced tea, made tasty by two tea bags and a day’s worth of sun.

Uncle John helped the kids make a fire in the pit out back.

———————————————————-

The smoke followed Matthew around, no matter where he sat. Uncle John joked that “smoke follows beauty.”

Having had all the marshmallows he could eat, which was plenty, and having all the smoke his dry eyes could stand, Matthew decided to head back up to the porch, lit up by a powerful overhead light and a blue bug zapper, working overtime. Grandma and Grandpa were sitting at the picnic tables, talking about something Matthew had no comprehension of. The rest of the children ran down to the pier.

He sat on the stairs of the porch and rubbed his watery eyes with the back of his hands. Grandma and Grandpa continued talking in the background.

The night air was still warm from the day, but an occasional breeze brought promises of colder weather to come. If any of the kids had looked up, they would have seen soft white glow of the Milky Way.

“Feel that?” asked Grandpa.

“Summer’s almost over,” Grandma answered.

“Mmm hmm,” Grandpa nodded. “I love the cooler weather but that also means the kids won’t be coming around as much anymore, what with school and other commitments…”

“Let’s not talk about that right now, Ed.”

Beyond the lake, lakehouses had their lights turned on. From where Matt sat, the lights twinkled and speckled. Some lights shone brighter than others, while some occasionaly blacked out from trees blowing in their direction. The lights stretched far into the hills, and nearly blended with the starry night sky.

“Those are your mountains, right Grandma?” Matthew asked.

“They are.”

“They are?” Grandpa asked.

“They are,” Grandma declared.

“There are stars on your mountains,” Matthew said. The lights continued to glimmer from across the lake.

Grandpa smiled.

“Yes, there are,” Grandma said.

Sounds of terrified laughter came from the direction of the pier, and echoed throughout the yard. “Look, there’s a snake in the lake,” Josh said, the adrenaline rushing to his head.

“I better go check this out,” Grandpa said, standing up. He stretched and started to make his way for the pier. Grandma continued looking at her mountains.