Spending the July 4th holiday weekend with family in the south was a treat.  Part of the weekend was spent at my brother’s home on a big lake, part of the weekend was spent at my parent’s home on another large lake.  Both places played host to all four of us; siblings together again for a few days, goofing off like we did when we were kids.  Of course not having Mom and Dad there to share it all with us lent a low grade melancholic feeling that persisted beneath the laughs, good food, great boat trips and crazy conversations.

Along the way were a few things that stood out:

• Watching 4th of July fireworks from a boat, just like we used to do as kids.  There were at least a thousand boats anchored at one end of the big lake, private fireworks going off along the shore, the official fireworks at the dam competing with the almost full moon, and Dad’s big dipper hanging high in the sky.
• Photographing scores of patriotically decked out wave runners as they sped by our boat in a watery version of the traditional  holiday parade.
• Listening to a celebratory concert at “two tree island” while floating next to the boat, my toes turned up to the evening sky in a salute to Mom’s swimming style.
• Eating a sweet ripe peach, the juice running down my chin, then eating another just because I could.
• Running my fingers over small wooden figurines on Dad’s bedroom dresser that years ago had resided on our kitchen windowsill, bringing back memories of teenage years in another place and time.
• Stopping for a moment during a boat ride in the warm summer air  beside the mountain where we had spread their ashes to pay our respects.
• Watching a storm come in across the lake, listening to the wind beat the roof and windows, the rain going sideways across the yard, being glad we were there so the house wasn’t facing the storm alone.
• Playing Mom’s piano.  It took both my sister and me to haltingly make it through some of the music left behind.  Our four hands couldn’t play what her two hands had played so beautifully such a short time ago.
• Looking around the cabin as we left, saying a silent goodbye to them.  Telling them I loved them.  Hurrying away before the pain overwhelmed.  Seeing a marquee sign out front of the first little gas station a couple of miles away that said simply “Love You.”  Knew it was a message that they loved us back.