August 15, 2010
Dude.My mother and I sat out on the deck all day. The wind ripping through the trees, the skis tearing up the lake, the sunshine sprinkling through the leaves. Thoughts of duck le orange swimming in our heads, talk of work wrestling with our calm constitutions, detailed accounts of drowning chipmunks (really, Dad?) quickly passed over onto other subjects.
And I looked around and I saw, just two doors down, the friend I miss. Well I saw the shadow through the reflection of the opened windows.
"You know it's Bruce's birthday today."
My mother looked across the table at me.
"And how do you know this?"
"Oh, I recall him telling me once. And it stuck because it's the day after Duker and Shane's birthdays."
"Small world."
"Indeed."
And we relinquished our glances to facing forward toward the water. We watched in silent disapprobation as a bog clustered with cattails dislodged itself from behind the island. With the wind ripping through the trees, the skis tearing up the lake and the sunshine sprinkling through the leaves, we looked on as the bog quickly made its escape across the water.
It seemed so sure of itself. So positive in its direction. No hesitation. No pause. Strong, resilient and steadfast.
It made its way directly to Bruce's shore.
"Bruce's birthday bog."
And thus we quietly sang Happy Birthday to you.
With the wind ripping through the trees, the skis tearing up the lake and the sunshine sprinkling down on us through the leaves.
I know how silly it all sounds but it's as close as I can get and it seemed, for about twenty minutes or more, that I wasn't altogether too far away at all, watching that stupid bog works it away across the lake only to end up at your shore.
So if you're still out there, somewhere, Happy Birthday Bruce.
And, nice bog.
You have only been gone ten days,
But already I'm wasting away.
I know I'll see you again
Whether far or soon.
But I need you to know that I care,
And I miss you.