A Father and Son

A father and son stood looking across Economy Lake, in a remote section of woods. It was a large body of water approximately three miles long and one mile wide, situated north of the village of Bass River, Nova Scotia.

 

To get there meant driving off the asphalt and heading into the Cobequid Hills. It was a perfect place to spend time together for a weekend. The island destination was bearded with a scattering of pine a quarter mile away on what looked like a pile of rocks protruding from the lake.

 

The man stretched his arm, sighted down his thumb, and almost made the image disappear. He wished he could, instead of being on this trip.

 

Coming straight home from work lately was unsettling. He could barely put in a good day trying to shake off dealing with a ‘pushy’ boss, mounting bills, and too often ended up picking on his wife. Seeing his son trying to understand, yet helpless, watching a mom and dad’s love for each other begin to fall apart. A concerned father had to do something.

 

The baking sun could easily sap anyone’s energy and enthusiasm. But somehow this outing had to have an element of fun. His son Alex loved the outdoors. So here they were. The rubber dinghy was quickly inflated then loaded with food. Sleeping bags and water joined the list of necessary items. Extra clothes, tent and flashlight also made the journey.

 

Three trips were made, father and son testing unused muscles, proud of what they were able to accomplish. Everything needed was finally moved from mainland to the small island. When a few waves lightly splashed over the sides of their dinghy, his twelve year-old son Alex, became fearful. Then the father was proud to see him settle down and continue paddling.

 

The boy knew this camping trip was really dad's idea. He said it might cool things off especially after yesterday’s shouting match with mom. Alex heard mom talk about moving out, and taking him with her. It was too hard to talk about at home. He hoped the pain thinking about it wouldn't be too difficult here in the woods.

 

Right now it was bug-slapping time. It helped steer his mind away from problems he may have no control over. Black flies flew around his exposed face, then up a shirtsleeve until they struck pay dirt. Fresh blood was the prize. “I believe they are related to vampires,” his father said.     

 

Setting up their two-man pup tent went smoothly. The ground was carefully checked for rocks and twigs, then corners secured with a yellow peg. One aluminum pole on each end raised the tent to a height of about four feet, making sure guy lines were properly taut.

 

Alex and his parents didn’t do much together anymore. Everyone’s energy was being drained from fighting and arguing. "Son, we have to get away, just the two of us. I think it's best for mom to have this weekend by herself." Alex knew dad was worried about his family falling apart.

 

It didn’t help with Alex being a “worry-wart.” He studied as much spare time allowed, collecting straight ‘A’s’ in school. But he did worry about family bills, and whether he helped mom enough around the house. It was a horrible thought, his parents maybe “splitting up.”

 

"Don’t be thinking so much, son" his dad said, sitting down beside Alex.

 

Alex tried to smile. His mushroom haircut fluffed up in the wind. Tired looking blue eyes used to be full of sparkle on his tanned face. The sun's golden rays reflected from his light brown hair. "Yah...sure," the boy answered, tears racing down his cheeks. He swiped at his eyes.

 

"Since everything's put away let's have a swim," his dad suggested. Faster than gulping back two hot dogs, father and son were in their bathing suits, shivered through water up to their waists, and splashed each other every step of the way. Soon it was a free-for-all.

 

Handfuls of grassy weeds went flying through the air. It was a “mucky” war. Gooey balls landed with “splats” creating muddy messes on backs and chests. Alex was the winner because he had better aim from pitching Little League baseball. Then he plopped a handful of mud and weeds upon dad's head. "Now you have some hair!" he shouted.

 

“Nice to finally see you smile,” his father said, with a clump of mud on his shoulder.

 

Hunger called a truce. After washing up they changed into dry clothes. Thankfully, the wind blew just enough to keep black flies off balance. Lunch was hot dogs, juice packs and Trail Mix. Alex made a super fireplace with flat stones. Father and son teamed up to collect firewood, and crackling flames soon followed. After tidying up, fishing rods were checked, and life jackets worn.. The rubber dinghy moved easily through the water as they paddled quickly to a small bay.

 

"I wish Mom was here," Alex said, looking around at the scenery.

 

"Yes son," dad answered. "I know she would enjoy it."

 

The water was inviting and another swim was on the menu since fish weren't biting. It seemed only a short time before supper was finished and the sun was setting. The night was warm as father and son lay in their sleeping bags. "What are we going to do, Dad?" Alex asked.

 

"Do you think it’s too late for your mom and I son?" his father answered. “I mean, I haven’t been the best husband lately, or dad,” he quickly added.

 

"Did you like the mud fight?" the boy asked, changing the subject.

 

"Yes," the man answered, feeling sadness well up within him. He wanted so much for this trip to be a break for both of them. But it didn’t seem to be working.

 

"And getting water in the dinghy when you tried to get out?" Alex laughed at that one. He could still see dad's face when his hip got soaked.  

 

"Yes, that too," his father said, poking his son on the shoulder.

 

"Do you like being a father taking his son camping?" the boy asked suddenly.

 

The atmosphere was very tense. There was electricity in the air. The man realized words from his answer must be carefully chosen. "Yes I do. Boy, you talk a lot. Aren't you tired?" the man asked, fighting for time to think.

 

"I'm too upset to sleep," the boy answered quietly, as he waited for an answer.

 

“I promise to try harder, son. When I married your mom, it was such a special time. And after you came along, I was happy beyond words.”

 

The boy heard the anguish in dad’s voice. "We both have to try harder. I promise I will too."

 

The moon’s flashlight beam intruded through the doorway, interrupting their conversation like an invitation to a party. "Let’s check it out," Alex’s father whispered, hope in his voice.

 

Instead of the familiar “When I have time” whiny voice his dad heard so often before, there was silence. ”Okay Dad, let’s do it,” the boy finally answered. Father and son left the comfort of sleeping bags and walked boldly across the cool ground. The shore was about twenty feet away.

 

They stood in bare feet under the moon. It was truly a beacon of white creating a path from lake to shore. Diamond sparkles shimmered on the water.

 

"This is what I call peaceful," Alex’s father said.

 

"Is mom going to stay or not?" the boy asked rudely. He was tired of this beating around the bush, and turned towards his father for an answer. “I’m just a kid, you know,” his eyes imploring.

 

The man fumbled for a meaningful response. "I really ... hope she will, son. In fact I’m sure she will. She still loves us you know." A father and son stood with renewed hope as the big Dipper glinted above them.

 

"Why is it so bright?" Alex asked.

 

"There are no city lights to compete with in the middle of the woods," his dad answered. ”This is the way to see a night sky. Everything is clear. I used to tent much more when I was your age.”

 

“We should come here again, Dad, with Mom too,” the boy added.  Heading back to their tent the call of a loon pierced the stillness. A lilting rose and fell almost like a parade across the island, returning as an echo of love and peace.

 

"Sort of lonely and happy at the same time," Alex said.

 

After settling in their tent, dad told Alex some facts about loons. “Usually two baby chicks are born,” he said. “Both parents work hard to teach and protect their young.” His voice was encouraging as Alex lay in the darkness. He almost missed hearing his dad say softly, "I’m sure she’s home waiting for us, son."

 

Alex fought back tears before falling into a welcome sleep. He dreamed about that family of loons and how it used to be in his own home. “I love you Dad,” he said, before falling asleep.

 

~

 

There was much more to come in the “Splash” of early morning waves. Noises traveled silently to his ears. It was like a dream that went on and on. Alex sat up. It wasn't a dream. He really did hear loons, and they were very close. He peered through the tent opening, his heart hammering.

 

"Dad...oh Dad," he whispered, barely able to breathe. Through the mist he actually saw two loons and two baby chicks. Dad’s story wasn’t just a fiction story to help a troubled boy sleep. Strange melodies began to circle their tiny island. Alex shook his dad awake. "Listen, listen," he said. Soon, father and son lay silently on their stomachs, watching through the tent opening.

 

A family of loons was indeed a beautiful sight. They swam back and forth alongside the shore, brushing lovingly against each other. Their cries rose eerily through the dawn. They sensed having an audience, and both adults let loose with everything within their feathered breasts.

 

An accolade of continuing calls was their parting message, and a family of four eventually swam off to new adventures. Morning sun was like an egg yolk on the horizon. The boy turned and faced his father. "Dad, that was so cool," tears coming rapidly. But Alex didn't care. "I’m so worried about our family breaking up," he said quietly.

 

Being a good husband and father was not easy. But, his dad had to keep trying. "We can work together like the loons, son. I promise to have a good talk with Mom when we get home. You’ll see how much I can change," his father said.

 

The awesome hug Alex gave his father meant, "I believe you, Dad."