August 2, 2011

Father's Day

This one is late, Folks, and I apologize. But the pictures are worth it. 


Father's Day weekend was a wonderful weekend. Bryon took Friday off and worked on home things. I joined him around 3. My mother in law came for supper and WE.HAD.A.BALL. She is so much fun. And she loves me. Like, really loves me. [This mother in law being so fun and loving me? Yeah, that’s new for me and I love it.] We cut up watermelon together and discussed our love lives. What it’s like to get married a second time (me, not her). I told her what it feels like to love her son, how it is different that any love I’ve ever had before. I told her about how our love for Christ give us strong ground to stand on. I told her how losing a marriage will make you very thoroughly audit things the next time around so that you zero in on what’s most important… you lose the bullshit. You care about the meaningful things and let the rest pass by. She seems awfully happy hearing all this, of course. Then she told me stories of Little Bryon and we giggled.

After she left, we packed up Hayley and a pile of wood and went to a friend’s for a bonfire. It was a great way to end the day. We collapsed in the bed smelling like fire, but it’s well worth it. Smells like summer to me.

That Saturday my eyelids fluttered open to find B standing in front of me, smiling. He’d very clearly been waiting for me to wake up. “What time is it?” I asked him. “Almost 11.” HOLY CRAP. I scolded him for letting me sleep so late, but secretly, I decided that he was the best husband that ever existed in the world. By the time we got out and about, it was after noon. We returned some carpet samples and shopped around for bunkbeds for the girls. Oh, we found one we liked, all right. Then we stopped and picked out some flowers for the pots at the house (that little chore has been on the list since April), went home, and planted them. I loved getting all dirty and slimy with the hubs, especially since doing landscape work is his thing. It’s been a while since I’ve had soil under my nails. I’d missed it, actually.

Father’s Day… well, we skipped church to begin with. That’s not something we typically do, but Bryon’s eyeballs flew open at 7:30 yesterday morning with a plan. We decided to go to church outside instead. We decided to go fishing. After snuggles and cards and a quick shower, we packed up Hales, a cooler, and some equipment – and started driving. Church music (as Hayley calls Christian radio) blared the whole drive to Dimock. Dimock is a tiny little town not far from where Bryon grew up. It doesn’t even have a stoplight. It does have a grain elevator that is involved in some story between Joe and a girl with BIG um, a big chest. I need to ask him about that story. Anyway, just outside of Dimock is a little lake surrounded by a cow pasture. We parked, removed a tick from Bryon’s left leg hairs, and loaded up our arms. We scaled the hill and avoided the cow patties (Hello, Bessie! Well, pardon me, Elsie…) and walked in pasture grass so tall that Hayley disappeared for a few minutes. The grass thinned at the rocks surrounding the lake, and we made ourselves a little fishing post right there. It was just us and the cows. Sunscreen and bug spray were applied, hooks were baited (are you kidding, of COURSE I did it), and we stood there on those rocks for hours. Really, hours. Whenever the water lapped against the rocks and the breeze blew just so, my dad was there. Whenever a fish jumped over next to the reeds, Larry showed up. It was so peaceful, so reminiscent of when I was little and fished with my daddy every summer weekend. The only thing missing was the smell of tobacco in the air.















We each caught a few [I, the only walleye], but threw them back. When our shoulders were satisfyingly pink, we packed up and made our way back through the tall pasture grass to the car. We drove about 20 minutes into the town where Bryon grew up, and set up again at a larger, more populated lake.

Where a giant Northern Pike jumped onto Bryon’s line. He weighed about 5 pounds, this Northern Pike. Bryon wrestled him well and I ran for the net. I’m not sure how we would have gotten him out of the water, given the fact that his teeth looked like they could take off my leg, but we were going to have a go at it anyway.

Until he jumped and tore the line. Oh well.
One of our most favorite weekends ever, so far.

1 comment:

  1. You are so blessed to be able to do life with this family... (thank you for the pics - love them :))))

    ReplyDelete