Here in the Northwest our days are becoming warmer and that big fiery thing in the sky has started to linger. The other day on one of those days like this, where the warm soft breezes caress your face and you could smell the cut grass in the air, I looked at my son and said lets do a drive to the coast. We live two hours away, so even on a whim it requires some prep.
He smiled and said, “Yeah.” So we gathered together what we thought we would need including filling up our gas tank I headed toward the overpass to join the interstate that would take us to the coast but looked over the rail and swerved away from the turn lane. The two lane freeway was a parking lot heading to the west. I realized that call had been answered by swarms of other people and a drive in bumper to bumper traffic wasn’t something I wanted.
I apologized to my son and said, “Hey, you want to go to the gorge?”
He looked at me thoughtfully as I explained how the freeway would be this long sinues trip with no relief. I was taking this odd route as we begin to discuss options. The Gorge had its own challenges this time of day on a Friday. I had known better then to start this late.
I finally remembered a local lake. “We should try Hagg lake. They have a bunch of trails and it is close by.”
He smiled, “Yeah, that sounds fun.” So we began this wondering path to the lake. My son is now 19 and our conversation run the gambit of video games, anime and philosophy. I try to let him guide anything about his future. My kitchen was dismantled about 2 months ago and now I am playing with doing some of the work on it since my contractor seems extremely busy. I had painted the walls and we were going on about the color I choose this emerald green which is bright and we both keep smiling when we see it.
We made it to the lake, I really haven’t been often since the coast and the gorge called me when I wanted to commune with nature most of the time. It is a county run reservoir so the paths are not so marked out with parking lots. Just a lot of gravel pull outs. After not pulling over for a couple of them I randomly choose one about half way round the body of water.
We started down the un-level hardened mud path with huge gouges toward the lake. I mentioned we seem to be on a trail carved by water. His eyes gave me a look of amusement as he strode on ahead. Before following the path around we made a bee line to the water’s edge and stared out into the clear blue green water. It was shallow only a few feet then dropped into a depth that the water showed nothing. I marveled at how soothing large bodies of water can be and he commented on the ducks we had disturbed.
Bald Eagles in a mating flight flew circles above us and we watched the limited boat and paddleboard traffic on the water. We explored the paths at the waters edge and then went back to the main path.
And somewhere in our discussions I realized, Gabe had never learned to skip stones. Those of you who don’t know me, may be puzzled by this and why it matters to me. So let me explain. My youngest who at that moment was with her dad uses a wheelchair. Whenever I had one child I usually had both and well lake front areas where it would be appropriate to skip stones are not wheelchair accessible places. I had grown up with parents who loved boating and water. I spent summers at the sides of lakes skipping stones and having conversations with other people or thinking.
There is this rhythmic beauty to it, a sense of satisfaction of taking a object that normally just sinks and flying it across the water for several counts. A reminder of what effort can do, anything can fly for a bit. And a quintessential mark of childhood I had planned on sharing with my children when I imagined having them and the mother I would be.
So, the mission became: the time is now, Gabe needs to learn to skip stones. I must remedy this now!
On the mud encrusted path there was only rough grey sharp shale stones. Not the smooth river polished ones I had learned with. I didn’t care. I found flat ones and encouraged Gabe to do the same we wondered back to where we had originally came to the waters edge and went down to a little indent into the lake. So I was close to the surface.
I explained how the angle to where you threw the rock across the surface affected your success. I grasped the rock between my index finger and thumb showing him how to hold it. Before the actual toss I moved my arm in the sweeping motion and showed how to flick the wrist. I explained you wanted to let go at the crown of the inertia heading down your arm. How the stone wants to leave your hand at the right moment.
And then I gave it a go it had been at least 20 years and I felt elated this grey uneven sharp rock skipped 6 times. My jaw dropped. I cheered and looked at Gabe, “I haven’t done that in 20 years and it skipped 6 times. It is usually 2 or three times the first time you do it. Ready to try?”
He gives me this excited smile, “Yes!”
He stands at the same spot and takes a rock and tries. His first try he did it, two skips. I danced and we gave each other a pound. I asked him how it felt and he looked at me elated. That was so cool!”
Komentáře