Running - Part Four

My final attempt entailed filling a suitcase with all of the shoes lined up at the door. I reasoned that if they couldn’t find their shoes, they wouldn’t be able to follow me or find me. I lugged the suitcase and my nest egg of Monopoly money down the old State Park road into the dewy morning lushness of summer and headed toward the roar of Lake Michigan crashing against the edge of my world. My stomach tightened, knotted and the relaxed in a muscular dance of hunger, fear, and empty sadness. At the lake, the sun sat like an overcooked egg yolk, it appeared to be sizing me up as its light radiated off of the water like sizzling butter.

I dragged my suitcase to the beach and sat down in the cold sand and looked out at what seemed like aquatic infinity. I had never been here without my swimsuit and a pack of brothers and sisters. It was just the week before that John took me out far into the Lake on his shoulders, step after step we progressed further into the infinity. With every step we descended deeper and deeper into the cool waters until the water was almost to his chin which I was gripping with an icy, teeth chattering fear (I’m quite certain his neck was feeling a bit “warmer” by that point.)

Quite afraid I asked nervously, "Daddy, are you going to keep walking until the water is over our heads?!!" "No babe." he answered in his usual gruff and loving way as he patted my rear-end in reassurance "I'm going to take you to the sand bar, and you will get to stand up like magic all by yourself right in the middle of this big lake! " "But I am too short Daddy. The water is already over my head!!" My teeth began to chatter from the cold water and the fear. Then, as if by magic, with each step into the infinity we began to rise up out of the water. John lifted me up to the sky and over his shoulders with those strong brown arms and gently set me down into the middle of lake. I looked down into the water that was just at my knees, it was warmer and clearer, and I could see my toes against the hard rippled sand below, little fish swimming around white feet that didn't appear to be a part of my body...

I turned to looked back at the shore and saw how far away we were from everyone. I could see my brothers and sisters jumping in the sand and waving at us, clearly impatient for their trips to the sandbar. Letty was sunning herself on the towel, smoking Chesterfields as her leg kicked along to whatever was playing on the transistor radio beside her. "Please, please, please Daddy… can’t we just stay out here for a while longer, just you and just me.”

It was very rare indeed to be alone with John. I was used to sharing him with brothers, sisters or Letty. Some times were happy, like lining up behind him and dancing a conga line as he mowed the grass in summer. Mostly however, the soundtrack that was frequently rotated in our house was the screaming, fighting or nagging greatest hits of our family. I treasured these “just us two” times with John, when his face relaxed and his eyes danced somewhere far away, these were the times he embraced me like I was the whole world and called me “babe” with his Lucky Strike voice. The times that I would creep down the stairs of the dark house when I heard his car tires crunching against the gravel and his front fender kiss the garage door in an early morning Pabst Blue Ribbon manner.

"I missed you Daddy...I woked up a-scared tonight!" His arms instinctively scooped me and they held strong, like they meant it. "This is the safe and quiet time of the night for dreaming babe.” “Let’s go see if the whippoorwills can sing you back to sleep.”

Muscles through a worn flannel shirt ..., a scratchy new beard, the alcohol on his breath were so familiar and so oddly comforting, he'd hold me and we'd softly call the whippoorwills until I fell asleep on a shoulder of Old Spice, Lucky Strikes and paper mills.

Back alone at the beach my head rested against the suitcase and I looked out into the lake wondering why it was taking so long for the family search party to find me. I knew deep inside that I had to go back, I could have turned around and headed home on my own, but the drama of my captures were my brief moments center stage those days. The sun on my closed eyes held me safe like a bright white blanket.....the heat and light forever in me to this day.....the threads of which I re weave in solitude to sleep. To feel safe and alright with being alone.

It was close to 10 am when they finally found me asleep on the beach. My two brothers stared bewildered at me as if I were some pint-sized mermaid freshly washed ashore. John’s eyes were moist and red as he leaned his head closer to mine and blotted out the sun. "Jesus Christ Grace, (my bad-behavior name) I’ve had enough of this already!" He picked me up and held me tight as we headed toward the car idling up on the road. My face once again burrowed into that worn and faded flannel shoulder of Lucky Strikes and Old Spice. Rather than cry, I let it all fall back, and began to build the moat that surrounds an impenetrable base of resignation.