Tierra Firme

Placing the glasses, dad started reading the back of the map:

“Remember when the days were long and rolled beneath a deep blue sky? Didn´t have a care in the world, with mommy and daddy standing by.

Look between the rocks of the dock where there were no ducks but we always rocked, and at the end, we will top this story with a nice coffee and I´ll forever look after you.”

He was laying in a hospital bed, soon to be his ultimate resting place and our last chance to be with him. An event we feared the last couple of years. Nevertheless, what we were not ready for was dad´s Sean Connery´s deep voice performing the ominous reading of a secretive map he had concealed until my brothers and I were finally by his side. John, the oldest of the three, arrived with his wife Tania and his two sons, Michael and John Jr.; Peter, the youngest and unmarried to this day, boarded on a plane as soon as he found out dad was going into the OR. My wife Sarah and my daughter Lucy came a few minutes after I did, and we were together for the first time since Christmas. We were expecting to find our father muffled and convalescent, yet he had other plans. Within his final breaths, he gathered us around one final scavenger hunt. Passing the map to our hands, he smiled one last time.

           -Let the chase begin.

John figured it out easily, at least the inciting first clue. 

“Remember when the days were long and rolled beneath a deep blue sky?

It was the lyrics of “The end of the innocence”, a song by Don Henley that John used to listen to during the 80´s, but more importantly, he would remark back then how the song took him back to our old beach house, the one that welcomed us along many summer vacations. We were already mourning, yet we were determined to fulfill dad´s wish and will, making a picnic day of it.

It took us a few hours to get north of the city and even from the distance, the first impression hit us with profound disenchantment. Deteriorated roads partially covered in sand and crumbling fences were only the prelude to the depressing display that awaited us. We stepped off the cars, and the warm and soft gale coming from the water started to bring back every aroma from childhood instantly. I couldn’t believe we were actually there, walking among the old coconut trees again and staring at the beach that witnessed so many holiday trips, stories and adventures over so many years. In contrast, my family´s beach house today was nothing but the pitiful remains of past and better years, when we had no worries. There was not even a house standing anymore; just the foundations endured the pass of both time and burglary, turning the view into a miserable spectacle that wrinkled my heart.

Inside the backyard, our humongous Pachycereus pringlei was still growing there over white sand. We remembered our old cardon instantly, since it was the home of a gorgeous night owl we visited every time we came on vacations. The cactus was still there, the owl was long time gone.

John and Peter stood next to me, seeming equally affected by watching the place in total devastation. We walked irremediably to the shore, where the waters of the lake met the sand, crossing by a small cement fence whose best years had already passed. We paced ourselves, allowing the senses of the beach –even rotten fish- to amuse our reminiscence and take us back thirty years, when both our parents were still alive.

My nine year old daughter swarmed everybody with questions.

-You see, –Said Peter, crouching next to her- your grandfather would come up with this great games of his. He and mom -your grandmother- created clues for us to follow all along the beach, the house and the backyard, and at the end, there was always a treasure for us, waiting to be found.

Lucy´s eyes sparkled.

-A treasure?

-That´s right. –He continued- Every summer we came to this beach, we were sure to find a new adventure. Bless the days when we had no technology.

All the kids seemed to have full attention on Peter´s story, looking genuinely intrigued about their grandpa’s final rally. He shared no tears nor showed no regret at the hospital´s bed. Adversely, he did his best to sound magnanimous and playful to the character he was trying to represent as he read the note out loud:

 “Look between the rocks of the dock where there were no ducks but we always rocked”.

The sun was shining as its zenith when we headed for the lakeshore towards the dock, about a hundred feet to the right of the house. Our wives and kids walked right behind us, taking pictures and videos of the three of us in the place they had heard so much about. We couldn’t help but sigh as we passed by the debris on the shore. The small branches, algae, shells and even wood or whatever else the current would bring in, we would take it to size exotic sand castles, with cannons and drawbridges.  

The tide was low by the time we reached the dock, and the water receded to shape small spaces of wet soil we friendly called “islands”, consequently, the dock was now erect over land, not water. The berth was just a formation of stones piled up together along with some reinforces. No wood or anything else that would have the dock work as a proper pier. Thus, people would use it instead to catch small but succulent mullets or crabs that later would become dinner at a night fire under the stars. It was the place our father taught us how to fish.

It looked shorter now, about fifty miles long and only four or five feet wide, looking ready to collapse to erosion in a matter of time, yet safe enough to send our children to explore the small cavities amid the stones. They had a thrill just by searching. About ten minutes passed by when Lucy shyly raised her tiny hand and yelled: “I´ve found something”.

We all came running next to her as she screamed straightaway after a few crabs crept from the rocks she was standing over. We bent to see an area next to the ground and something was stuck in there, wrapped in black plastic garbage bags. All the adults had to work to remove the rocks and finally freeing the object out of its little cave. We couldn´t believe ourselves.

Peter pulled his pocket knife and tore the wrapping apart, and then we saw ourselves contemplating the last object we were expecting to find: a shovel.

-Well, I guess whatever it is, it´s buried. –Said Michael, John´s oldest kid.

It looked like an ordinary spade, but as kids, we were used to find extra clues in any modest thing that our father would throw in the quests. “There could be one more thing…check it properly”, he would insist. Without a word, we grabbed the shovel and turned it upside down, flipped it and checked it for marks.

-It looks like it has been there for some time…don´t you think?

The voice came from my wife Sarah, who actually made a valid point. Did our father come up with this within his last moments of physical autonomy? Or is it possible that he had been working on this for very long time?

-The handle, Pete. Can you remove it? –John requested.

We noted the handle was made of blue plastic. It was aged, like the shovel itself, and it came off easily. There was nothing underneath the plastic, but then we noticed something engraved in the end of the shovel´s stick.

108415      716981

Between the two numbers, there was something else: a clear image of a coconut tree.

-I think it´s just the manufacture’s information. You know…the serial or something. –Said John. The group suddenly seemed disappointed and the kids kept asking questions about the next step, with us being incapable enough of providing them with an answer. I was blocked myself, until I got stroked with a sudden flashlight to one of our past adventures.

-It´s something else. –I said, feeling hopeful–Dad loved coordinates. Back then it was all analog, but now we can use Google Maps.  

-Coordinates, how? –John asked.

Now the family was looking at me like I was Hercules Poirot.

-I believe the two numbers are actually 10, 84, 15 latitude, and 71, 69, 81 longitude. Maybe he finally managed to incorporate it.

They were all staring at me now, in a solemn silence that was interrupted by Michael´s “wow” and his mother rushing to get her cellphone from her purse. They went straight to Google Maps and positioned the marker on the coordinates. It was only a walk from where we standing.

-Oh my God. –Peter exclaimed, taking one hand to his forehead.

The group was already making a run back to the house area, where the spot seemed to be. Once we were all in position, we observed around. It was exactly between the front of the house and the beach itself, surrounded by the labyrinth of coconut trees that were growing there since the beginning of time.

-The symbol in the shovel must be one of this coconut trees. –John Jr. guessed.

-Search for the ones that are closest to the coordinates. –Tania intervened- Check the trunks, the holes, everywhere.

-What are those holes, papa? –Lucy asked.

-They were made by woodpeckers, honey. Birds. It was a real joy listening to them in the mornings.

We all approach the task, searching everywhere, until John Jr. spoke, pointing one of the tree´s holes.

-Here!

Embedded inside one of the holes, there was a metal tube of about 3 inches diameter and 8 inches long, placed so it fit perfectly inside. We extracted it from the tree but it was when it was out, when we realized it was a part of a small steel pipe, with a screw cap, also made of steel.

The kids were again jumping around in exhilaration as John carefully unscrewed the cap. Another cylinder came out from the inside, wrapped by a small rolled parchment. Kids and women cheered, while John, Peter and I gave a closer look. John cut the string and unrolled the parchment. It was the other half of the map.

The second tube was a retractable telescope. The kid´s jaws dropped as we proceeded to examine the items.

    The other half of the map completed the drawing of the beach shore. The details, outlined with a fountain pen, were beautiful. It showed a spot we immediately identified as the house, the shore, the trees and the dock and so on. It had an “X” marked within the coconut maze.

     -Remember this step? –John smirked.

  Peter and I smiled back. It was one of dad´s favorite clue sequences. Tania wanted to know what was happening, so John explained.

-We need to take the telescope and stand in the spot marked with the “eye” figure. The other mark, the “X” would tell us where to look at.

-Doesn´t an “X” shows where the treasure is?

-That would be far too simple for dad. –Peter said.  

We proceeded. Using the map, I stood in the point marked by the “X” and John used the telescope from the “eye” spot. He aimed in my direction.

     -Ok…here it is. Wait a second. Let´s see up the coconut trees. We are going up…and up…

   He raised the telescope little by little, trying his best to remain focused while the wives questioning him what on earth was he doing, and the kids laughing at him because he looked like a buccaneer.

-Dad did this once; he placed a small framed picture of something ….there it is! Ha!

   He stopped and adjusted the telescope. Then we all took turns and helped the kids to watch. It was a worn wooden piece with a graven image on it: an owl. 

-The cactus!

The thrill took over our bodies as there was a new clue to follow. I dare to say to this day, that we all felt like kids again when we rushed back to the cactus. By watching all my family holding hands while they ran like characters of an Indiana Jones movie, I know that regardless of the outcome, my father´s last game had already succeeded.

We contemplated the cactus for a few seconds when we promptly agreed that, whatever it was, it would be hidden inside the owls old nesting place. Michael climbed on top of his father´s shoulder and they both carefully approached the tree. The circus stunt worked so well, that Michael was able to pull a tiny box from the interior of the nest on the very first try and without getting himself pinched. We all praised Michael as he climbed down feeling like an armored hero.

The box, about the size of a perfume package, had no marks or writings on it. We opened it and another unexpected item popped before our eyes. It looked like a glass salt shaker, but it was guarding something compacted and murkier than salt. I unscrew the cap and smelled it.

-It´s…coffee, I think. –I told the rest, passing the bottle to Peter. He poured some over his hand and tasted it.

     -Coffee alright. So what do we do with this now?

     We were starting to get stuck, when Sarah enlightened us again.

     -Wait a minute, there was coffee mentioned somewhere before…

     -The map!

    We all gathered around the back of the first half of the map that our father read at the hospital.

“…at the end, we will top this story with a nice coffee and I´ll forever watch you from above, my dear sons.

-No doubt it is this coffee, but how?

-Maybe pour it over the letter, dad. After all, that is the story.

The voice came yet again, from little Lucy, and the women laughed happily at the innocent suggestion of the youngest of our kids, but John, Peter and I looked at each other with a goofy expression we had not seeing in years.

    -My God!

  John crouched and extended the letter, and Peter spread the instant coffee grains on top of it. Gently, I rubbed the grains all over the paper and letters were slowly showing.

    -How on Earth…? –Sarah and Tania were astonished.

   -The oldest trick. –I said- It´s artisanal “invisible ink”, probably dad wrote the message using a candle, or something else. At plain sight, it´s impossible to perceive, but if you add this, you will see the hidden message written in wax.

    -Does it have to be coffee? –Lucy inquired.

   -No. –John replied- we could use anything, but dad just tried to keep us inside the story.

    We were exited again when we finally saw the whole message.

Tierra Firme

   This time we just needed to walk fast, as we realized we were moving towards the last part of the adventure. The kids were the ones doing the running and jumping like monkeys with everlasting enthusiasm. We reached the front fence, where the sign bearing the name of the house was still standing there, even now.

    We commenced the digging right under the sign and within a few minutes, Peter hit metal with the shovel. Then we uncovered another box the size of a briefcase. It had also suffered from the elements and time, but we could still identify a worn military green color. The case belonged to our father. Once it was out of the hole, we opened it. Expecting gold bars or something resembling a pirate treasure, the kids squeezed in as they tried to see the contents of the case.  

   It contained pictures, some of them we remembered, some of them we did not. Pictures of us together throughout different time ages at the beach. There were toys we thought we lost in time, small vintage metal cars and fishing gears, maps we drew when we were on vacations and places we desired to explore. A bottle with a message we wanted to send to the waters, but came back every time. The box was full with the most valuable things a person could receive from this life.

    It was a time capsule, and it contained our memories.

    A message displayed over a metal sign said:

           “May your true innocence never end.

I´ll love you forever, my dear boys.”

   We could not help to cry, surrounding ourselves with our beloved ones to make them understand that this was not an unhappy moment but just the opposite. For us, it was one more chance to tell dad how grateful we were of having him as a father, to let him know our years together were sacred and unforgettable, and to feel that he would live in our hearts and minds forever. We taught our children to appreciate that the real treasure at the end was not gold and jewelry, but something far more valuable and important, for memories remain forever. We also dedicated a moment to honor our mom, dad´s silent companion behind the curtain, who was there always for us making sure we were safe and happy. Those years at the beach helped us define a model of family we are now projecting into our own.

We left the beach saying goodbye and feeling beyond happy, cherishing as we relived the moments, like the telescope and the circus stunt, and also wondering how our dad managed to put this up together and keep it a secret during all this time.

But mostly, asking ourselves how in heavens he hiked that coconut tree.