I suddenly became aware of the rocking of the dock. It was annoying to me. It was as if I wouldn't be able to continue the wonderful dream. I couldn't remember the dream. All I knew is that I loved every second of it. Suddenly I realized how warm I was. The sun was beating down on my chest and eyelids. How inconsiderate I thought, laughing to myself. I sat up and looked around. The sun was directly overhead and the sailboat was still tied to the left port. The sky was a deep blue with nary a cloud, but that could change at a moment’s notice. I looked at the dock itself and saw my cousin, Grayson, still fast asleep, long red hair obscuring his freckled face.
I padded over to check the time on his phone and brushed the light brown hair out of my eyes. I was skinny, ungodly so, and very tan with only a touch of the red of sun burn marring my nose and cheeks. The battery was nearly dead and had automatically turned off Grayson’s semi-talented singers and banjos he likes. Lord knows you can’t text out here. Twelve thirty four. I had gotten up a hour earlier than the day before. I looked around at the various equipment scattered around the dock and decided against cleaning it up. Grayson would get it after today. I broke into a sudden run and took the dive of a practiced and familiar hand out of the left right port. When I came back above the waves I took a quick breathe and began swimming to shore. A good way to wake up and get some much needed exorcise, in my mostly sedentary lifestyle here.
The swim was monotonous and exactly what I needed. By time I was climbing out up the sand and shell scattered shore line I was pondering the secrets and deep meanings of the universe. The view from the beach was obscured by the sand dune which was infest by ants and scorched black by our annual bonfire at the end of the week and our repeated, and vain, attempts to rid the dunes of the pests via gasoline. I climbed up the stairwell and turned left off of the dock and began to make my way to the house, dodging sand burs the whole way.
The trees were a hue of green that exploded in your vision, the grass was fluffy and yellowish green, the bushes were big and filled with flowers, the hammock squeaked invitingly as it swung. So much beauty in such a small place, I thought, nothing like where I live now. Tennessee is such a dull place. Nothing to see, nothing to look at, in fact the only redeeming quality of that purgatory was the people, and only some of them at that. It is good to be home.
I reached the house after what felt like ages, but was only two or three minutes. People buzzed about setting out plates and pot holders on the table set outside. My aunt with flaming red hair and freckles came out the door exasperated and stressed carrying a delicious looking breakfast pie. My mother came rushing angrily, as always, out the door after her, fussing about something or another. I slipped past, happy mom hadn't seen me, and went inside to find my other cousin, Savannah, and my uncle, Kenny, sitting on the couch.
I began helping my grandmother move the rest of the food outside, and by time I got outside my mother was finished throwing her temper tantrum. The patience my family had developed was nothing less than divine. I caught a glimpse of Grayson running to the shed with the fishing gear in hand as my two younger brothers came from the road, probably playing on the canoe in Jack’s hole, a swampy watering hole used by bass fishermen and jet skis to change bodies of water.
We sat together, bowed our heads, and prayed. I bowed and closed my eyes. God however wasn't in this particular prayer. I am sure he has no taste for our petty politics and certainly not over their struggle to make it in a corporate world. If he was anywhere, it was at night sitting at peace with me or in Iraq with my father as he fights for what he loves. We finished eating and then disbanded throwing away the paper plates and heading towards the beach.
My youngest brother Kris got there first, but I quickly caught up to him and threw him in the air. He laughed loudly in surprise and joy before splashing into the water. My brothers, my cousins, my uncle and I all played like that for hours, as my aunt and grandma watched from their lawn chairs on the dock, laughing loudly at us or their own jokes. My mother slept in the hammock where she was of no bother to anyone. Slowly the hours crept by and finally Uncle Kenny bowed out to start the charcoal on the grill; the sun was beginning its descent towards the power plant on the far side of the lake, the sky taking on a light orange tint.
Grayson challenged me to swim to the sand bar; a mile one way swim way beyond the dock and its illusion of safety. I thought myself fearless and accepted without hesitation. We swam for what felt like days. When I finally reached the sand bar my muscles ached and my mind was numb. Gray was only a short time ahead of me and was just as fatigued, but neither of us were ready to give up. He jumped from the waist deep water back to the deep end as soon as I touched down. I didn’t take time to rest and jumped off as well.
Every few moments I had to return my thoughts to the task at hand. I was wavering and could feel it. Every muscle cried for me to stop, every tendon and joint. My lungs burned for more air than there existed. At every turn my thoughts were to return to the sandbar. I no longer cared about winning, only not drowning. Finally I stumbled on sand. I couldn’t feel a muscle but I stood and slowly waded the final twenty feet back to shore. The sky was now yellow and the charcoal grill could be smelled from where I was. I looked around to find Grayson and did not find him. He had turned back and I had won. My brothers were already braving the larger than normal waves to retrieve him.
I made my way to the house smiling sorely. The food was just coming off the grill and I was hungry beyond belief. My skin felt tight on my body as the water dried and the effects of the days sun sunk in. Dinner came shortly after the smell of the meat making my mouth water. We sat and prayed but my mind was on something else. Soon, I kept thinking. Soon it will be time once again. The excitement built up so that every second I looked around to see if everyone else had finished yet. I ached to go out there, to rush toward the dock.
Finally it was time; everyone was getting up and heading in to play hand and foot, a card game my grandmother and grandfather brought with them from Kansas. I retrieved our gear from the shed and walked, avoiding the sand burs, and to the deck. The sky was a red, the water orange as the sun glared in my eyes. The dock swayed back and forth under my feet as the waves lapped against it. This was the moment I had been waiting for all day, all year. It felt like days walking on that dock. I would never reach the end. The cicadas buzzed from shore and the clinking of the line on the mast of the sailboat beat a rhythm for me to walk on. The night spiders were beginning to weave their webs under rails of the dock, to many these were an annoyance, to me they were a blessing cutting down on the billions of mosquitoes and adding another layer of beauty to my home.
I reached the end and set down the tackle box and began casting lines. I had crossed a barrier. I stood now in a different world, while only a few football fields away from the house, they could have been from different countries and cultures that have never met. Gray’s and I’s family sat indoors answering the call they heard.
Ours was a different call. A call we could only answer for seven days a year. This call was one of peace. Every night at Lake Moultrie, South Carolina, hundreds maybe thousands turned on floodlights on their docks, their overheads on their boats and maglights from the shore. No matter where you looked, when the sun went down these lights blinked on. Some sat alone, most with a friend. All were silent. Simultaneously hunter and monk, peace and decisiveness were the center of the call. It is not for everyone.
The sun was long below the horizon but the hydroelectric plant glowed pink on the horizon. With exception of the other fisherman’s lights nothing could be seen beyond the glow of our floodlight. As I sat there, watching the fishing lines, listening to mediocre music, I sighed a deep breathe of contentment. This is where God resides.
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