LJ IDOL ENTRY - "REPROBATE"
"Are you sure you want to go?"
"Mom, I have to do this."
"I can turn around now."
"MOM..."
My fingers gripped the door handle as we weaved along the dirt road that lead to our cabin. Having spent nearly every summer along Little Shag Lake in northern Michigan until I was five years old, I had not been to the cabin since. In fact, none of my family had the courage to return.
Slowing the van to a crawl, I closed my eyes and took a deep hollow breath as I felt us turn into the driveway. Afraid to look, I glanced at my mother as her hands rushed up to cover her mouth. In an instant, the painful memories of that fateful day came flooding back. Too taken aback to even speak, I looked around at the now dilapidated piece of land that once held so much warmth and love.
Slamming the car door, I ran to pick up the sign that said "On Golden Pond" and looked up at the caved-in roof of the wood shack it once rested on. Running my fingers along the carved-in letters, I meandered over to the old garden fence, now crumbled and trapped in the weeds. Noticing my mother still sitting in the van, I waved my hand for her to come, but she remained frozen in her seat.
"It's YOUR fault." A voice whispered just behind my shoulder.
At that moment, I knew she was with me. She had been with me for all these years. Most often I simply sensed her presence, but today I actually felt her touch.
"Why are you doing this to me?" I demanded.
I spun around looking for her, but catching a glimpse remained elusive. Peering down at the lop-sided dock resting half in the water, another flash of that fateful day attacked my senses.
Entranced in the past, I watched as my own five year old self lifted my sister into the speed boat and climbed in after her. As the boat sped away from the dock, I caught the smiles on our faces as we hung our hands out of the boat and splashed them in the water.
Climbing down the winding jagged staircase to the dock, I felt a push on my back and reached for the railing. Bairly catching myself, I spun around to see her there. That long blond hair, the pink bathing suit, her pigtails neatly tied. My entire body shook despite having repeatedly and constantly dealt with her taunts for the last twenty two years.
"You let go!" She exclaimed through clenched teeth.
"I'm sorry," I cried.
Lost in my own personal hell, I had been unable to shake her image from my mind year after year. As much as I wanted to believe she wasn't real, that it was only my imagination, I knew in my heart that her spirit was there.
Determined to put an end to the torment, I turned back to the water. My mind returned to the speed boat racing along the shore. Hitting wave after wave as we spun in circles, I watched as my sister flew up along the side of the boat and tumbled over the edge. Grasping for anything I could grab, my young five year old hand fell into hers just as she hit the water. Screaming for my father to stop the boat, I tried desperately to hold on.
"I wasn't strong enough! I couldn't help it," I yelled as I fell to my knees on the dock.
"YOU LET GO!"
On that warm sunny day in 1987, my sister's hand slid out of mine, and she was lost beneath the water. Spinning the boat back to look, my family's attempts to rescue her were just moments too late. All that floated on the water was her tiny blond doll with pigtails much like the ones my mother had put in my sister's hair that day.
Devastated, I crumbled on the floor of the boat with tears filling my eyes. I looked up at the sky, feeling that as my hand slid away from her tiny little fingers, God's hand also let go of mine. Destined to be taunted for eternity for my terrible failure, the first touch from her spirit shook me to the core that night as I laid in my bed at home unable to sleep.
Pulled away from those memories and back into the present, I felt my lungs burning like a raging fire as I realized I was now deep below the surface of Little Shag Lake. Reaching for the surface, I gasped for air as my arms splashed above the water. Wiping the water from my face, I glanced forward to see the tiny blond doll with pigtails floating just inches in front of me.
"CHRIS...," my mother yelled from the shore.
Reaching for the doll, I was again pulled deep below the surface. Feeling a pair of small bony fingers wrapped tightly around my ankles, I kicked my legs and thrust my body forward. But as my air began to run out and my efforts proved futile, I let go of my urge to clamor to the surface and let her drag me deeper and deeper into the cold mucky water. Completely out of air, I felt my mind slip and body relax. Silence.
What must have been only moments later, my eyes fell open to the sight of my mother's face just inches from mine. Not quite able to make out the words that sputtered from her mouth, I looked around to see that I was lying on the shore. Drenched from head to toe, I slowly gathered my senses and curled over onto my side. Clenching my left hand, I felt something soft and small lying within it. As I shifted my gaze downward, I could see that tiny blond doll still in my grasp. A calm sense of relief filled my body, and for the first time in twenty two years, I felt as though I were back in the safety of God's hands.
As we sped away from the cabin that afternoon, I held the doll tightly in my hands and smiled up towards the sky. I felt in my heart that she was now up there, and that I would never have to fear her haunting presence here on earth again. And having restored the cabin to its original beauty during the following weeks, I have begun again to create warm and loving memories along Little Shag Lake.
"Mom, I have to do this."
"I can turn around now."
"MOM..."
My fingers gripped the door handle as we weaved along the dirt road that lead to our cabin. Having spent nearly every summer along Little Shag Lake in northern Michigan until I was five years old, I had not been to the cabin since. In fact, none of my family had the courage to return.
Slowing the van to a crawl, I closed my eyes and took a deep hollow breath as I felt us turn into the driveway. Afraid to look, I glanced at my mother as her hands rushed up to cover her mouth. In an instant, the painful memories of that fateful day came flooding back. Too taken aback to even speak, I looked around at the now dilapidated piece of land that once held so much warmth and love.
Slamming the car door, I ran to pick up the sign that said "On Golden Pond" and looked up at the caved-in roof of the wood shack it once rested on. Running my fingers along the carved-in letters, I meandered over to the old garden fence, now crumbled and trapped in the weeds. Noticing my mother still sitting in the van, I waved my hand for her to come, but she remained frozen in her seat.
"It's YOUR fault." A voice whispered just behind my shoulder.
At that moment, I knew she was with me. She had been with me for all these years. Most often I simply sensed her presence, but today I actually felt her touch.
"Why are you doing this to me?" I demanded.
I spun around looking for her, but catching a glimpse remained elusive. Peering down at the lop-sided dock resting half in the water, another flash of that fateful day attacked my senses.
Entranced in the past, I watched as my own five year old self lifted my sister into the speed boat and climbed in after her. As the boat sped away from the dock, I caught the smiles on our faces as we hung our hands out of the boat and splashed them in the water.
Climbing down the winding jagged staircase to the dock, I felt a push on my back and reached for the railing. Bairly catching myself, I spun around to see her there. That long blond hair, the pink bathing suit, her pigtails neatly tied. My entire body shook despite having repeatedly and constantly dealt with her taunts for the last twenty two years.
"You let go!" She exclaimed through clenched teeth.
"I'm sorry," I cried.
Lost in my own personal hell, I had been unable to shake her image from my mind year after year. As much as I wanted to believe she wasn't real, that it was only my imagination, I knew in my heart that her spirit was there.
Determined to put an end to the torment, I turned back to the water. My mind returned to the speed boat racing along the shore. Hitting wave after wave as we spun in circles, I watched as my sister flew up along the side of the boat and tumbled over the edge. Grasping for anything I could grab, my young five year old hand fell into hers just as she hit the water. Screaming for my father to stop the boat, I tried desperately to hold on.
"I wasn't strong enough! I couldn't help it," I yelled as I fell to my knees on the dock.
"YOU LET GO!"
On that warm sunny day in 1987, my sister's hand slid out of mine, and she was lost beneath the water. Spinning the boat back to look, my family's attempts to rescue her were just moments too late. All that floated on the water was her tiny blond doll with pigtails much like the ones my mother had put in my sister's hair that day.
Devastated, I crumbled on the floor of the boat with tears filling my eyes. I looked up at the sky, feeling that as my hand slid away from her tiny little fingers, God's hand also let go of mine. Destined to be taunted for eternity for my terrible failure, the first touch from her spirit shook me to the core that night as I laid in my bed at home unable to sleep.
Pulled away from those memories and back into the present, I felt my lungs burning like a raging fire as I realized I was now deep below the surface of Little Shag Lake. Reaching for the surface, I gasped for air as my arms splashed above the water. Wiping the water from my face, I glanced forward to see the tiny blond doll with pigtails floating just inches in front of me.
"CHRIS...," my mother yelled from the shore.
Reaching for the doll, I was again pulled deep below the surface. Feeling a pair of small bony fingers wrapped tightly around my ankles, I kicked my legs and thrust my body forward. But as my air began to run out and my efforts proved futile, I let go of my urge to clamor to the surface and let her drag me deeper and deeper into the cold mucky water. Completely out of air, I felt my mind slip and body relax. Silence.
What must have been only moments later, my eyes fell open to the sight of my mother's face just inches from mine. Not quite able to make out the words that sputtered from her mouth, I looked around to see that I was lying on the shore. Drenched from head to toe, I slowly gathered my senses and curled over onto my side. Clenching my left hand, I felt something soft and small lying within it. As I shifted my gaze downward, I could see that tiny blond doll still in my grasp. A calm sense of relief filled my body, and for the first time in twenty two years, I felt as though I were back in the safety of God's hands.
As we sped away from the cabin that afternoon, I held the doll tightly in my hands and smiled up towards the sky. I felt in my heart that she was now up there, and that I would never have to fear her haunting presence here on earth again. And having restored the cabin to its original beauty during the following weeks, I have begun again to create warm and loving memories along Little Shag Lake.