The Whispering Sky

UNFINISHED WORK IN PROGRESS

“Remember, don’t bring up the lake or say anything at all about fishing in front of your Grandpa.” My mother reminded me for the hundredth time, as we pulled down the driveway to my grandparents’ house. The tires crunched loudly on the gravel.

“I know, mom.” I didn’t look up from the game I was playing on my phone.

“I mean it, Simon. He gets really upset about it.” My mother’s eyes pierced me from the rear-view mirror.

“Listen to your mother, Simon.” My father chimed in from the front passenger seat, distracted by his own phone and whatever website he was scrolling through.

I sighed and looked up, meeting my mother’s eyes in the mirror. “I promise I won’t bring it up, mom.”

***

I stood on the porch with my grandmother, waving as my parents drove back down the driveway and out of sight.

“Oh! I have missed you so much!” Grandma Betty gathered me up in a rib crushing hug.

“I’ve missed you too Grandma.” I choked out before she let me go. “Where is Grandpa at?”

“Oh he’s taking a nap, he wanted to be here to greet you but...”

“It’s OK Grandma.” I interrupted her. “I can see him when he wakes up.”

Grandma smiled and struggled to pick up my suitcase. I rushed to take it from her. It was weird seeing her after all this time. She looked so much older now, fragile even. Not at all the way that I remembered her.

She led me into the house and at least it was exactly how I remembered. It even smelled the same. A mix of lavender candles and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies with a slight undercurrent of mildew. Probably a staple of most lake houses, drought or no drought. Grandpa Chris was passed out in his favorite leather recliner, snoring softly. I noticed with a nagging sadness that he looked much older now too.

Grandma led me up to my room on the second floor and left me there to unpack while she started on dinner.

***

That evening I stood in my bedroom looking out the window at the backyard as the sun began to set. A thin line of trees ran on either side, blocking the view of the neighboring houses, giving the property a secluded, wooded feel. The yard sloped sharply downhill and ended in a little private beach. I knew from previous summers out on the water that every house was set up the same way. They were supposed to be lake houses after all, but now there was no more lake.

I could see my grandparents’ dock in the distance. Where it had once floated on glistening waters, it now stood on spindly wooden legs with nothing but dirt and air beneath it. The covered portion where my grandpa once housed his prize boat was now empty. Someone had nailed a bunch of boards over where the boat would have docked to create a sort of covered porch. I could see two folding chairs set up. The thought of my grandma and grandpa sitting in those chairs and gazing out over the dry lake bed made me tear up.

It had only been five years since my last visit but so much had changed. I was no longer the little kid they remembered, but a teenager. They were no longer the vibrant, active grandparents I remembered. They moved much more slowly now and even after his nap Grandpa had seemed tired, barely talking during dinner.

And the lake was gone. It was strange and disturbing, looking out over that dry, bare expanse of dirt. The summer haze and the dimming light made it shimmer like the memory of water.

I used to come here every summer. My parents would drop me off for a few weeks and they would go on their own vacation, then pick me back up for the family vacation. But when I was ten my dad had to move across the country for his job and after that it was just too far of a drive to come every year. Life happened, and ‘we’ll bring him next year’ became next year and the next year, until five years had passed.

I looked around my old room. My grandma hadn’t touched it, other than to keep it dusted and clean. Hand drawn pictures of fish and boats still stuck to the walls with little bits of tape, their paper beginning to yellow. An old bookshelf still displayed my collection of rocks and shells and oddly shaped sticks. A well worn child-sized fishing pole was propped up against one wall with a tiny tackle box and a hat that would not have even begun to fit my head now.

I glanced back out at the dried up lake bed as the sun finished setting. I’d lost something missing those five summers with my grandparents. I’d never know what it was, but I felt its absence all the same. The sadness from before returned and I recognized it was grief.

***

The next morning I woke up to the smell of bacon and rushed to put my clothes on and brush my hair and teeth. Grandma’s breakfasts were an event to behold. I took another look out my window before heading downstairs. It was a bit darker out than it should be at this hour. It looked like a rare storm cloud or two might be moving in. Ever since my mother had told me what had happened to the lake I was fascinated and horrified in equal measure. I understood why it had happened, but the idea that an entire lake could just disappear like that even over the period of a few years still seemed unbelievable.

I went into the kitchen and I was not disappointed. Grandma Betty had prepared a huge spread of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and hash browns. She had a big smile on her face as she offered me a seat and started piling food on my plate. I glanced up at Grandpa Chris who was already shoveling food into his mouth. I was glad to see he appeared more alert and energetic than he had yesterday.