After four hours of driving you stop for lunch and in two more hours
you are at the family vacation home. It
takes an hour to get in, make the beds, stock the kitchen, build a fire and
open some beers. You see that your dad
is slowing down. He’s had a long, full life, more than you’re going to get,
“but that’s the way it works,” you think.
Your mother starts preparing dinner in the little kitchen after
evicting a family of mice in one of the cabinets. From the commotion you would think they were dangerous
animals and whole nest of them could not have weighed a quarter-pound. “Yeah,” you think, “I’m home,” and you start
to break down, but pull it together before anyone notices.
The evening goes well as you tell them of the wonders of working with the
President of the United
States .
They want to know what you are
planning to do after his term is over as he is “termed out,” and you almost
tell them, but decide not to. “I’ll do
it later,” you decide.
The next morning you and your father get the boat out, fire up the
motor and head out on the lake, “To catch dinner!” as you dad loved to say on
leaving the dock. You go up to the north
end of the lake and kill the motor after turning across the wind. Your father puts out the windward side oar to
act as rudder control for keeping the boat across the gentle breeze. You are going to troll for “Wall Eyed Pike, best
eating fish in the lake,” your father announces for the 200th time
in your life. You thought of beating him
to it, but that wouldn’t be right.
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