A Summer Day

A summer day

I love the 70’s.  When I was young and growing up in the 70’s, I thought I was pretty cool with my bell bottom pants and my matching outfits.  My favorites were gold and purple.  The knee down was purple on one leg and gold on the other.  The knee up was the opposite.  I wore a mustardy gold colored shirt to match.  My hair was cut like Dorothy Hamil.  Or Toni Tenille.  My glasses were octagons. 

The best picture we have of my proud self in this outfit is of myself and our dog, Daisy.  We are standing in front of the gas pump. (we had our own, sticking out of the ground in front of the biggest cedar tree in the world).  I felt like I was looking pretty good.  It was before my parents decided we needed to kennel the dogs that would run in a pack through the neighborhood.  

The cedar tree later got a plaque, designating it as a historical big tree on the island.  Somehow even with a plaque to protect it, it was later taken down to make room for the bigger and greater houses that needed to have views of the small bay in the distance.  We spent hours playing under that tree.  The cedar fronds reached the ground and it was like the world’s most beautiful tent…  The trunk that stood at least 4 feet in diameter fed a branch that was itself as thick as a tree, that reached directly horizontal for a good 5 feet.  We hung a tire swing there.  And we would climb up and sit on the wide tree branch.  It could rain, it could be hot…  under that tree it was the perfect dry temperature and the ground was all soft needles.  It was better than any tree house.  Higher than that branch the tree split into two more trees.  We would climb and climb, like it was a beanstalk and we were looking for the golden egg. 

Another branch hung down in a perfect slide to the ground.  It ended in a nest of cedar fronds that gentle placed you on the ground.  The branch was worn soft by our butts sliding down and landing safely in that nest.   I never felt scared in the tree – it was a safe zone.  It felt like a big mother who was always there, and protecting us.  The fronds were hands that always surrounded us, providing a shield from anything bad.  I still can feel it - the comfort.  I think I have been working to get there as long as I can remember.  If I could visit the tree I would.  I don’t remember ever feeling as safe or as comforted as in that tree.  It was magic.  It was home. 

The first time we sat and watched this show = Stand up to cancer – you had just been diagnosed, and we all sat at your house on the couch and we cried, and we called and gave money.  I watch it now, and I want to see that there is so much hope.  There are the sad stories, the stories of a struggle, the kids who shine and show us how strong they are and make us all feel very small for being so scared.  But the hope I feel is a sad hope – I lost my hope a few years ago when you died.  The struggle – you didn’t let us feel it like you must have been feeling it.  I am sorry I wasn’t there in the trenches like I should have been…  I learned that my way of trying to follow your lead only left you trying to lead.  You should have been able to not lead at that point.  I know that I needed to be there to do whatever you needed.   But I should have said – I am taking you here.  We are doing this.  Instead I said – what do you want me to do. 

When you put on your pretty skirt and got ready to go back to the hospital, I couldn’t carry you to the car – I thought you were going to die right there.  The vision of you barely able to get down the stairs to the car so I could battle traffic to get you to the hospital.   I know you felt like it was hours …  I could never do enough.. .  I don’t know how to ever feel good about what part I played.  I could have flown you in a private jet to get you there and I will never feel like I did enough.