The exercise:
Let us celebrate Father's Day by writing about: a father figure.
Had a good day with my family, featuring nice weather and good food. We hosted Kat's family for dinner, which is the first time we've all been together since the pandemic began. It felt refreshingly normal.
3 comments:
Happy Father's Day! It sounds like it was a good one :) And especially given the ongoing pandemic, it sounds like you managed to create a small amount of normal amidst the chaos!
Father figure
There were low hills, dotted with trees, surrounding the lake, and as we got lower the ground seemed to be moving faster beneath us. I'm sure that was some kind of illusion, but it took my breath away in the opposite way to the way the scenery from high up had. The wind shook the basket as we got lower as well and I figured that was because it was getting tangled up in the trees and then thrown up back at us in knots. Ben was cursing a blue streak as he wrestled with a rope, and then he heaved mightily on it and I heard a creak so loud I worried that the basket was breaking, and we seemed to drop six metres in the air. We all bounced, though I don't know how, and there was a crashing noise and the top branches of a tree pinwheeled away in the air.
Then we were above the trees again, and then just seconds later the ground fell away and the expanse of the lake opened up. The water was green, and there were white-flecked waves running across the top of it as though someone had neatly raked it out like a zen garden. Ben heaved on the rope, and fiddled with the burner, and we dropped again, and again, and again. And then we were skimming across the lake, just above the surface of the water and I could see that the waves that had looked so neat and pretty were really little breakers and the air was full of wind-blown spray. I gasped, trying to catch my breath, and wiped at my eyes with my hands, and then wished I hadn't. The brown and green blur resolved itself into more trees and a steep slope upwards after a short stretch of dirty sand.
There was a splash and I leaned over the edge of the basket, my hands gripping it tightly like my life depended on it, and it probably did. We were in the water, but the beach was still coming up fast. And then we hit the beach, and ploughed into the sand and I was thrown, hands torn from the edge of the basket despite what I thought was a death grip, both forward and up.
I hit the balloon, and it billowed inwards, deflating, before I slid down the fantastically smooth silky fabric and landed in the basket in a heap. Looking around there was no sign of Ben, so I got shakily to my feet and looked around. He'd been thrown out of the basket as well and landed in the sand up towards the top of the beach -- if he'd gone much further he'd been in the trees.
I sighed, holding on to the edge of the basket again. We were down, and in one piece, and whatever gods chose to watch over me and Ben -- well, they were probably killing themselves laughing and passing out the cigars and moonshine right now. Father-figure types, the ones that watch you crash and burn making your own attempts, and sometimes come and pick you up again when you need it.
The first drops of real rain hit me, fat and heavy. Above me, the balloons silk was still billowing about, deflating, and it provided some cover but not a great deal. And the anvil clouds were bearing down on us.
"Ben?" I shouted first, because walking meant finding out if my legs worked.
"Five more minutes!" he shouted back, and I started laughing. It wasn't that funny, but the laughter just bubbled up from deep inside me and shook my sides, and my knees went slightly weak and I just laughed for a minute.
"Glad you found it funny," said Ben. He was stood now by the basket holding his hat in one hand and checking a small gash on his forehead. "We landed."
"We might even take off again," I said. "Seems to be in one piece."
"We're gonna get wet though," said Ben.
I smiled, and jumped over the side of the basket. My legs wobbled a little when I landed, but supported me. "Right. Let's get the basket over on it's side, facing away from the wind, and then get the balloon draped over it. Tuck it under where we can. That should give us something like shelter."
Greg - well, that was quite the landing. I'm rather impressed with Ben, actually - he seemed to almost know what he was doing.
I love how unflagging and indefatigable these two are :)
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