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This is a story I wrote at work today. If I EVER get enough time, I'd like to go back and edit some of this stuff. Until then, hope you enjoy the rough draft. Timelines have been changed to fit the story....
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Grandma's Mountains
by Matthew McKibben
The morning air was cool and crisp, perhaps the first sign that the most horrendous summer of recent memory was beginning to wane. The morning sun had begun to rise behind the house, casting long shadows over the lawn. Bright rays of light diffused through the trees, and reflected in the water. A slight breeze blew from somewhere unforseen, and gently rapped the glass like surface of the water. Ed was already in the boathouse, preparing the boat for the day's activities. Mary Ellen clasped her coffee cup and thanked god for mornings like these. Ducks in the lake laughed at one another.
Matthew was the first grandchild to wake up, or at least the first one to get out of bed. He opened the screen door and sat down in a patio chair next to his grandma, his dusty blonde hair still a mess from a night of heavy sleep.
"Good morning, Matthew," she said. She hid an extinguished cigarette under her slipper.
He smiled, and looked out over the lake. They sat in silence for a couple of moments.
"Those are some big mountains," Matt said, pointing to the gently rolling hills on the far side of the lake.
The grandma squinted her eyes, and pretended to examine the object of Matthew's wonder. "Those *are* big mountains," she said. The white lie didn't end there. "Those are Grandma's Mountains."
Matthew smiled and looked back out over the lake. The "mountains" were almost shiny, reflecting back the rising sun.
"Who you got there on your p.j's?" she asked, looking at the character jumping off his shirt. She knew full and well who the character was, she just wanted to hear him say it.
"Superman," he said, thrusting his arms into the air in mock flight. That segued to a full on stretch.
"Oh, I like Superman."
In the boathouse, her Superman was emptying the remnants of a large orange gas barrel into the boat. He screwed the lid back on, and looked up to the patio. Matthew was awake, or at least he thought it was Matthew. His eyes didn't work like they used to, not as if they ever really worked great in the first place. It appeared as if Matthew was trying to teach his Grandma how to fly.
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"MacShack" was alive and well. Its floorboards rumbled under the heavily placed footsteps of the six cousins helping Grandmother prepare breakfast. The younger ones set the plates and bowls on the table, while the older ones filled those plates and bowls with scrambled eggs and dry cereal.
"The river looks like glass." Uncle John stood at the window overlooking the lake. He sipped his coffee. "There's going to be some good riding today." He was already in his swim trunks.
Although grandpa was still outside in the boathouse, the kids began eating. They sipped their orange juice, and poked each other with syrupy fingers.
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Having the opportunity to come to the lake more often than the other cousins, Josh was the most accomplished water skier of them all. While the other cousins could barely manage to get up on the skis, Josh was capable of pulling off some of the greatest feats in water sports history. He could jump a wave. He could turn around mid-ski. Sometimes he could do both at the same time. The other kids would look at him in amazement and pray that their teenage years brought such high rewards.
Matthew and Katie would hang their hands over the side of the boat, and let their fingers bounce off the rushing water. Luke sat at the front of the boat, pretending to steer. No one in the boat was sure if it was sprayed lake water, or drool that dampened his chin.
Grandpa steered the boat over the middle of the lake. He has one hand over the accelerator lever, and one hand holding the greek hat on top of his head. There wasn't one drop of Greek blood in his entire body, but the hat made him feel like a sailor. And he hadn't felt like a sailor in almost 45 years.
Josh wiped out, and sunk into the water. His life vest resurfaced him. "I think water just shot up my ass," he said.
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Mary Ann, the oldest of all the cousins chose to sit this boat ride out. She was on page number 143 of "To Kill a Mockingbird," and was reluctant to put the book down. It was by far the best book her father ever recommend that she read. It was not hard to tell why he liked it so much.
A squirrel unaware that Mary Ann existed, munched on an acorn, not all of 4 feet away from where Mary Ann sat. The squirrel threw down the acorn and picked up another one. He nibbled on it and threw that one back on the ground. It picked up one more and nibbled it.
Mary Ann looked over the top of the book at the squirrel. Squirrels always look the same. No matter where she went, a squirrel was a squirrel. This squirrel looked identical to the squirrel she saw next to the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington D.C, which looked identical to the squirrel that used to feed on Pecans outside her bedroom window, so on and so forth.
The squirrel suddenly realized that there was a creature, possibly dangerous, sitting a mere 4 feet away from it's last dropped acorn. It took off running for the nearest tree, and disappeared behind the large trunk.
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Rain clouds descended over the lake house in what seemed like a matter of seconds. They came so quickly in fact that everyone on the boat got a little bit more wet by the first falling drops of the cold rain.
The children ran into the lakehouse, each grabbing a towel that was waiting for them on the entry way bench. They called for first, second, third, and fourth showers. Pity the poor soul who called last shower, and had to sit in the air conditioned cabin with wet clothes on. Josh was going to take a shower later, just in case the rain stopped and he got to go back out into the lake.
The children headed to the basement downstairs to watch television. All but one were asleep within 45 minutes. Upstairs, in front of the Cowboys getting blown out by the Redskins, their grandpa wasn't fairing much better.
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The clouds rapidly disappeared, as they do in Texas, leaving the children with approximately 2 more hours of solid daylight. They ran outside and played every variation of tag and hide and go seek they could come up with. Two large Oak trees served as home base, in case one was able to elude the grasp of the other players. Katie was the only one smart enough to use the wet grass as an advantage, instead of a disadvantage like the rest of the children. The trick was sacrificing your jeans and going low.
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Grandpa and Grandma both worked on the evening meal. He with Bratwurst, her with baked beans mixed with a pinch of brown sugar. He with sauteed onions and sauer kraut, her with a bucket full of potato salad. He with the glasses of water, her with iced tea, made tasty by two tea bags and a day's worth of sun.
Uncle John helped the kids make a fire in the pit out back.
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The smoke followed Matthew around, no matter where he sat. Having had all the marshmallows he could eat, which is plenty, and having all the smoke he could stand, dry out his eyes, he decided to head back up to the porch, lit up by a powerful overhead light. Grandma and Grandpa were sitting at the picnic tables, talking about something Matthew had no comprehension of. The rest of the children ran down to the pier.
He sat on the stairs of the porch and rubbed his watery eyes with the back of his hands. Grandma and Grandpa continued talking in the background.
The night air was still warm from the day, but an occasional breeze brought promises of colder weather to come.
"Feel that?" asked Grandpa.
"Summer's almost over," Grandma answered.
"Mmm hmm," Grandpa nodded. "Won't have to cut the grass for much longer."
Beyond the lake, lakehouses had their lights turned on. From where Matt sat, the lights twinkled and speckled. Some lights shone brighter than others, while some occasionaly blacked out from trees blowing in their direction. The lights stretched far into the hills, and nearly blended with the starry night sky.
"Those are your mountains, right Grandma?" Matthew asked.
"They are."
"They are?" Grandpa asked.
"They are," Grandma declared.
"There are stars on your mountains," Matthew said. The lights continued to glimmer from across the lake.
Grandpa smiled.
"Yes, there are," Grandma said. "There sure are."
Sounds of terrified laughter came from the direction of the pier, and echoed throughout the yard. "Look, there's a snake in the lake," Josh said, the adrenaline rushing to his head.
"I better go check this out," Grandpa said, standing up. He stretched and started to make his way for the pier.
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Grandma's Mountains
by Matthew McKibben
The morning air was cool and crisp, perhaps the first sign that the most horrendous summer of recent memory was beginning to wane. The morning sun had begun to rise behind the house, casting long shadows over the lawn. Bright rays of light diffused through the trees, and reflected in the water. A slight breeze blew from somewhere unforseen, and gently rapped the glass like surface of the water. Ed was already in the boathouse, preparing the boat for the day's activities. Mary Ellen clasped her coffee cup and thanked god for mornings like these. Ducks in the lake laughed at one another.
Matthew was the first grandchild to wake up, or at least the first one to get out of bed. He opened the screen door and sat down in a patio chair next to his grandma, his dusty blonde hair still a mess from a night of heavy sleep.
"Good morning, Matthew," she said. She hid an extinguished cigarette under her slipper.
He smiled, and looked out over the lake. They sat in silence for a couple of moments.
"Those are some big mountains," Matt said, pointing to the gently rolling hills on the far side of the lake.
The grandma squinted her eyes, and pretended to examine the object of Matthew's wonder. "Those *are* big mountains," she said. The white lie didn't end there. "Those are Grandma's Mountains."
Matthew smiled and looked back out over the lake. The "mountains" were almost shiny, reflecting back the rising sun.
"Who you got there on your p.j's?" she asked, looking at the character jumping off his shirt. She knew full and well who the character was, she just wanted to hear him say it.
"Superman," he said, thrusting his arms into the air in mock flight. That segued to a full on stretch.
"Oh, I like Superman."
In the boathouse, her Superman was emptying the remnants of a large orange gas barrel into the boat. He screwed the lid back on, and looked up to the patio. Matthew was awake, or at least he thought it was Matthew. His eyes didn't work like they used to, not as if they ever really worked great in the first place. It appeared as if Matthew was trying to teach his Grandma how to fly.
----------------------------------------------------------
"MacShack" was alive and well. Its floorboards rumbled under the heavily placed footsteps of the six cousins helping Grandmother prepare breakfast. The younger ones set the plates and bowls on the table, while the older ones filled those plates and bowls with scrambled eggs and dry cereal.
"The river looks like glass." Uncle John stood at the window overlooking the lake. He sipped his coffee. "There's going to be some good riding today." He was already in his swim trunks.
Although grandpa was still outside in the boathouse, the kids began eating. They sipped their orange juice, and poked each other with syrupy fingers.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Having the opportunity to come to the lake more often than the other cousins, Josh was the most accomplished water skier of them all. While the other cousins could barely manage to get up on the skis, Josh was capable of pulling off some of the greatest feats in water sports history. He could jump a wave. He could turn around mid-ski. Sometimes he could do both at the same time. The other kids would look at him in amazement and pray that their teenage years brought such high rewards.
Matthew and Katie would hang their hands over the side of the boat, and let their fingers bounce off the rushing water. Luke sat at the front of the boat, pretending to steer. No one in the boat was sure if it was sprayed lake water, or drool that dampened his chin.
Grandpa steered the boat over the middle of the lake. He has one hand over the accelerator lever, and one hand holding the greek hat on top of his head. There wasn't one drop of Greek blood in his entire body, but the hat made him feel like a sailor. And he hadn't felt like a sailor in almost 45 years.
Josh wiped out, and sunk into the water. His life vest resurfaced him. "I think water just shot up my ass," he said.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Mary Ann, the oldest of all the cousins chose to sit this boat ride out. She was on page number 143 of "To Kill a Mockingbird," and was reluctant to put the book down. It was by far the best book her father ever recommend that she read. It was not hard to tell why he liked it so much.
A squirrel unaware that Mary Ann existed, munched on an acorn, not all of 4 feet away from where Mary Ann sat. The squirrel threw down the acorn and picked up another one. He nibbled on it and threw that one back on the ground. It picked up one more and nibbled it.
Mary Ann looked over the top of the book at the squirrel. Squirrels always look the same. No matter where she went, a squirrel was a squirrel. This squirrel looked identical to the squirrel she saw next to the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington D.C, which looked identical to the squirrel that used to feed on Pecans outside her bedroom window, so on and so forth.
The squirrel suddenly realized that there was a creature, possibly dangerous, sitting a mere 4 feet away from it's last dropped acorn. It took off running for the nearest tree, and disappeared behind the large trunk.
----------------------------------------------------------
Rain clouds descended over the lake house in what seemed like a matter of seconds. They came so quickly in fact that everyone on the boat got a little bit more wet by the first falling drops of the cold rain.
The children ran into the lakehouse, each grabbing a towel that was waiting for them on the entry way bench. They called for first, second, third, and fourth showers. Pity the poor soul who called last shower, and had to sit in the air conditioned cabin with wet clothes on. Josh was going to take a shower later, just in case the rain stopped and he got to go back out into the lake.
The children headed to the basement downstairs to watch television. All but one were asleep within 45 minutes. Upstairs, in front of the Cowboys getting blown out by the Redskins, their grandpa wasn't fairing much better.
----------------------------------------------------------
The clouds rapidly disappeared, as they do in Texas, leaving the children with approximately 2 more hours of solid daylight. They ran outside and played every variation of tag and hide and go seek they could come up with. Two large Oak trees served as home base, in case one was able to elude the grasp of the other players. Katie was the only one smart enough to use the wet grass as an advantage, instead of a disadvantage like the rest of the children. The trick was sacrificing your jeans and going low.
----------------------------------------------------------
Grandpa and Grandma both worked on the evening meal. He with Bratwurst, her with baked beans mixed with a pinch of brown sugar. He with sauteed onions and sauer kraut, her with a bucket full of potato salad. He with the glasses of water, her with iced tea, made tasty by two tea bags and a day's worth of sun.
Uncle John helped the kids make a fire in the pit out back.
----------------------------------------------------------
The smoke followed Matthew around, no matter where he sat. Having had all the marshmallows he could eat, which is plenty, and having all the smoke he could stand, dry out his eyes, he decided to head back up to the porch, lit up by a powerful overhead light. Grandma and Grandpa were sitting at the picnic tables, talking about something Matthew had no comprehension of. The rest of the children ran down to the pier.
He sat on the stairs of the porch and rubbed his watery eyes with the back of his hands. Grandma and Grandpa continued talking in the background.
The night air was still warm from the day, but an occasional breeze brought promises of colder weather to come.
"Feel that?" asked Grandpa.
"Summer's almost over," Grandma answered.
"Mmm hmm," Grandpa nodded. "Won't have to cut the grass for much longer."
Beyond the lake, lakehouses had their lights turned on. From where Matt sat, the lights twinkled and speckled. Some lights shone brighter than others, while some occasionaly blacked out from trees blowing in their direction. The lights stretched far into the hills, and nearly blended with the starry night sky.
"Those are your mountains, right Grandma?" Matthew asked.
"They are."
"They are?" Grandpa asked.
"They are," Grandma declared.
"There are stars on your mountains," Matthew said. The lights continued to glimmer from across the lake.
Grandpa smiled.
"Yes, there are," Grandma said. "There sure are."
Sounds of terrified laughter came from the direction of the pier, and echoed throughout the yard. "Look, there's a snake in the lake," Josh said, the adrenaline rushing to his head.
"I better go check this out," Grandpa said, standing up. He stretched and started to make his way for the pier.
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