A year later

This just in:

Dear Expedia Traveler,

Your $50 hotel coupon* expires on July 31, 2006!

Don't forget! There's a $50 coupon in your account, ready to be used for a hotel booking of three nights or more or a flight + hotel package of three nights or more.

This $50 coupon expires on July 31, 2006. Whether you're planning a romantic getaway...

I'd forgotten all about this. A year ago, when we traveled to Hawaii (her first trip there, my first in probably twenty years) we booked our tickets and hotel through Expedia. Part of the deal was this $50 coupon. I even remember that it was only good for a year, though at the time, I thought, "No problem. She loves to travel, almost more than anything else. We'll probably take four or five trips in the next year."

It had been three years since my marriage had ended, and in that time I hadn't taken any real vacation trips, except several driving & camping trips with the kids. I hadn't gone anywhere with a woman, let alone romantically, since the summer of 2002, when a girlfriend and I spent a few days in Gold Country. She was a lovely and funny friend, from a distant place, and much younger than I, and she said she had never before gone skinny-dipping but wanted to.

So we found a somewhat remote river where she did this, and she said it made her feel free, like birds must feel when they fly or fish when they swim. In fact, in the pool formed by the rocks lining the river we visited, I spied a half dozen rainbow trout in the clear waters. Somewhere I have a photo (I take pictures of everything.)

I remember thinking at the time how excited my father would have been at the sight of these lovely fish. I didn't have any fishing equipment with me, and in any event I was more intent on making sure my young friend enjoyed her inaugural nude swim. I admired the way she seemed to glide through the clear water, much like a fish, and not unlike a bird soaring through air.

She looked very beautiful, her long black hair trailing her as if she were a mermaid. She had a special name for herself, in her language, which she told me meant "fish lover." (I suspect a more accurate translation would be "one who loves fish."

Either way, I again thought of my Dad. Above all else, even golf, he loved to fish. He was an amazingly good fisherman, bringing our family dinner more times than anyone would think possible. I still can see him, out on the lake at sunset in our small boat with its Evinrude motor, working his lure in against the lily pads, waiting for the inevitable violence of a strike from one of the bass waiting hungrily below.

Six months after he died, we spread most of his ashes under a new Blue Spruce tree that we planted on a piece of land in Michigan that he loved above all others. After the ceremony, we took his remaining ashes in a cup out on the lake, my mother, my nephew (their oldest grandchild), and I.

I knew all of my Dad's favorite fishing holes, every single one, around that little lake. Mom had rarely gone out there when he was alive but now she very much wanted to go with Jim and me. I threw out most of the ashes, but she threw some and so did Jim.

Although I am not religious, I admit to two spiritual feelings on that day. The first was earlier, at the end of the ceremony we held for Dad, when we all sang Amazing Grace. The power of that song at a moment like that is undeniable.

The second spiritual moment was watching the ashes from what had been my father's living body, the one that helped create me, sink slowly away in the waters of this lake he loved. Maybe it is the calcium from bones that creates a milky way human ashes leave in their wake, I don't know. But the sight was beautiful beyond all belief.

I knew my father would be at peace with this act. Probably even laughing as he joined his beloved bass under the lily pads, waiting for a lure to drop from some other person's perfect cast, so he could pounce out, grab it, and the fight would begin -- an eternal battle, man and beast, out on a lake as the sun falls over the hills under a sky dotted with distant worlds we call stars.


***


People die, they pass on. Do you realize that everyone you know one day will die? Life begins and life ends. I'd like to believe each life emerges from true love, but of course the truth is that lust has a good deal to do with it, as well.

It's hard to make the good things last. As it turned out, I was completely wrong a year ago, when we returned from Hawaii, tanned and relaxed. My darling companion swam a lot, she snorkeled a lot, though she wore a swimsuit, no skinny-dipping for her. Eight months later, as we were breaking up, she told me she had noticed I did not have as much energy as she did on that trip, which was a clue to her that our age difference (~15 years) might be an issue.

This shocked me. At places like Hawaii's beaches, I always go into an extremely contemplative state. Although I also love to snorkel, the sights there were not particularly interesting to me, after much better venues I've visited in the South China Sea, the Indian Ocean, the Caribbean, and the South Pacific, especially Tahiti.

I felt content watching her swim from the shore, knowing she was happy, while I could imagine stories and wonder where the sea would lead us if we sailed off one night at sunset from that spot.

***

When we came back from Hawaii, it was only a month and change before Katrina would cut into the Mississippi coast like a buzzsaw, and flood New Orleans, unleashing America's dirtiest secret about race and class for the entire world to see.

In the aftermath, she would find her purpose and I would find myself alone, waiting night after night, the first time ten nights, the next time eighty nights, and the third time, forever -- for her to return to me.

As it turns out I have lost her, so now I have only my sweet, sad memories and a $50 coupon that expires in ten days.

***

Please visit two of my other story-telling sites: Sidewalk Images; and Seaglass.The latter actually has a rare photo of our sweet snorkeler mentioned above on it tonight. I often change my mind overnight, however, and edit these posts, removing material, so go there while you can!

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