a weekend at grandpa’s. part two.

{Find part one here.}

After a full day of exploring the house, seeing relatives,  playing in the lake, and dealing with an angel of a toddler who had rejected his entire afternoon nap, we executed an early bedtime for  him  and escaped to the dock with fishing poles in hand, just us.  The sun was gracefully setting and the world around us was still except for a few loons who softly glided across the water signing out an enchanting tune. 

A handful of eager little fish practically jumped on our lines at the promise of a tasty worm.  I named them all.  It was fun, we laughed.  I impressed my husband with the fact that I could bait my own hook and remove my fish from the line.  Our hands became covered in worm slime and fishy smells.   But most of all, those moments of fishing were serene and refreshing as the commotion around came to a pause and a cool summer evening happened upon us.

Dark, silent clouds rolled across the blue water, increasing the levels of grey in the skies and intermittently little showers poured out onto the earth.  Have you ever watched the rain dance on the lake?  It’s mesmerizing.  It’s like a soundless orchestra playing a beautiful symphony.  You can’t hear anything, but your eyes take it all in, the rhythm and notes of heaven’s song. 

These moments of  reveling in the beauty of the cool air, the still water, and the majestic sky eased my busy mind.  For most of the day, I sifted memories of being a small child who traveled a great distance with my family for a visit to the grandparents house.  My world was so different in those days.  I was so different, but I suppose, so much the same.  Yet, here I was, no longer the child, but an adult in this place flooded with memories of my past, a place equally familiar and foreign.  Or perhaps, this place remained familiar and I had become foreign?  This place knew nothing of who I had become, only who I had been.     These quiet minutes momentarily merged this place of my childhood with the person who I am today. 

-Olivia

Stay tuned for part three.

Photos by Matthew Moore, a.k.a. the husband.