Missing You

Missing You

My legs are bowed out, knees trembling. My skin is like that of a shar pei puppy. Pushing my walker slowly over the gravel, people stare at me wondering if I’ll make it to the raft. I have to, so I will. My grandson, a spitting image of me in my youth, asked the other visitors to give us a few minutes alone on the raft as this would be my last time. They were gracious folks.

Gliding gently across the Kitchitikipi, I see the rich greens and blues of the deep spring-fed wonder. Below, deep in the center, lie dark, moss-covered logs of long forgotten trees who once stood sturdy in their youth. Jimmy pulls the wooden paddle on the guide wire, stopping at the center. Then, stepping back and quietly observing the surrounding nature, he gives me the required time to pay my respects.

Peering into the center opening, I spot the enormous trout some thirty feet below. Ten feet below that, is a puff of sand as the spring pushes upward refreshing the waters above them. It is then that I see her reflection next to mine, my sweet Laura Lee. My feeble mind goes back one more time, to that first time I saw her in the reflection below.

Sixteen, what a wonderful year. We came to this teal and emerald marvel carved deep in the earth. Pristine waters emptied into its depths from a narrow, shallow, sandy bottomed creek that flowed with clear diamond waters. It was a favored family vacation spot. I was the captain and pulled the raft across the pond with the wooden paddle on a cable. I stopped in the middle to look down through the depths, mesmerized, until I saw her reflection next to mine. Her tanned skin and large green eyes were enhanced by her silky black tresses flowing over her shoulders. I looked up and our eyes locked. The soft pink lips moved upward in a slight smile that snatched my heart and my breath. “Someday God, I’m gonna marry this beauty, if I’m lucky.” A tickle fluttered in my stomach.

We talked a while and then shared addresses and promises by the campfire that evening. At first, the letters talked of our shared love of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. We talked about school, friends, and daily life. Letters were increasingly longer, as our love had grown for one another. Our families had begun to meet each summer at the Psalms Book State Park for a joined time of fun. It wasn’t until years later that we found that it was actually “Palms Book State Park” or the “Kitchitikipi, the Big Springs.” Manistique, is the best place to begin new things. Camping in the fresh, pine-filled breezes, Laura Lee and I would walk, talk, and dream of our future together.

Then a warm fall day, surrounded by fall reds, greens, oranges, yellow, and browns, I got down on one knee and proposed. Family was standing around the Springs to witness the beautiful event mid-pool. I kissed her with a promise of long-lasting love.

Our wedding was held in the middle of the Big Spring a year later. of course. Standing on the raft, I gushed as my bride glided down the wood chip path so we could vow our lives to each other. Her white lace gown against the dark green cedars, pine breezes floating around us, gave the perfect vision of romance and endurance.

We returned yearly, introducing our little ones to this special place. Robbie was first, followed by Benny and June. Now our children come with our grandchildren in keeping with tradition. Each year, Laura Lee and I told the beautiful story of our beginnings here.

Laura Lee became sick five years ago. Her body became weak and the weight fell off quickly. She never asked for much in our time together. So, when she asked to find a way for her to go to the Kitchitikipi with the family, I pulled strings to get her there. We rented a wheelchair van, borrowed a specialized chair, and off we went. The kids pitched in at the cabin for her care. Hospice organized a team to come and check on us as needed. I only had to make a local phone call. That morning was rough. Her breathing was changing, but she insisted on going to the Springs. Family helped roll her onto the raft and she and I went to the center to gaze into the water. I held her up in my arms as we peered over the center wall. Below was the reflection of two old young people with sprints of silver laced through our hair framing our faces. But the green eyes next to mine were dimming. That next morning, she left us in the morning fog at the Kitchitikipi.

It has been a while that I have not been able to come here to give remembrance of my precious Laura Lee. My health has not been good. “One last trip Lord. One last trip to finish business.” Now, I stand talking to her reflection next to mine.

“Laura Lee, meeting you here all those years ago was the best thing in my life. My love for you never changed in all these years. Meet me here in the morning mist and we will go home together. I love you.” I then dropped her favorite, pink, wild roses into the water and watched them float into the body of the pool. Nodding at my grandson, he began to pull to the dock as I dried my face.

My knees gave way departing the dock for dry land. Family had brought a wheelchair, realizing that it would be too much. Loaded in the car, we drove to the nearby cabin for a good night’s rest before returning home.

Waking in the night, I sat on the front porch listening to the crickets’ song. Fairy lights glowed on and off giving a feeling of magic in the air. A loon’s mournful cry summoned his mate to rest alongside him.

Along the edges of Lake Michigan, a soft turquoise light lined the horizon. It slowly began to change to a soft peach as the morning mist rolled over the grass and through the dark cedars and pine nearby. Pink fireweed lifted their faces to meet the morning sun. Lavendar sand pea lining the edge of the woods, stretched up to catch the warmth.

I lift my eyes to the rolling mist. She is there with ebony whisps blowing gently across her face. I lock on her emerald eyes just like the first time I saw her. “It’s time Jim. He sent me to bring you home.” I take her outreached hand and we turn and start to walk toward the woods. Looking back, I see my human wrapping, still on the porch, wrapped in a large fleece. The family…they will understand. Into the morning mist we go, hand in hand, to our heavenly home, together.