Turn My Camera On

Yesterday was a gorgeous day. It hit the sixties and we decided to head to the lake. Mom slapped on her cycling kit and put the bike on the back of the car while Gert and I decided what to do while Mom was seeing of her winter training had paid off in any way. (Matilda, sadly, was at her dad's.)

Off mom went. First Gert and I went down to look at the boat launch. A floating dock was sitting on the concrete, which we inspected thoroughly. Buoyancy is an amazing thing to a five-year-old.

We wandered down the trail by the lake. There were sailboats out, and we watched them for a while. Then we headed into the sand and started picking up rocks, sticks and anything that looked cool. The winter storms and the hard freeze seemed to dredge up all sorts of interesting things along the beach. Including a really cool tree branch that floated alongside the shore.

I picked up some flat rocks while Gert made soup with sand and water. Wonderfully unsanitary.

"Hey Gert," I said, "Check this out!" I started skipping rocks. I even managed to get one to skip five times. No response. "You're really not impressed, are you?"

"I'm not into the whole rock skipping thing," my five-year-old-going-on-twenty-five told me.

We walked over to some swings, which was a good 3/4 mile hike from our car and swung for a while, chatting about rocks, dirt and what's under dirt. Mom called and warned us that she was heading back to the car so we had to stop swinging.

"I'm turning on my recorder," Gert said as she grabbed my hand. "I want to record these memories because today is the best day ever. Sometimes you just need some Daddy time. Are you recording it too?"

"Always. Every day with you is the best day."

On the way back to the car we stopped to make some more soup. This time, however, we found a dead fish. Gert was crushed. We spent ten minutes burying it and having a philosophical discussion.

"Why did the fish have to die Daddy?" Here's a question you don't want to answer. It's right up there with, "How do we get another baby in mommy's tummy because I want a baby sister."

"Well, honey, everything dies sometimes. It's how life works. I'm sure the fish lived a good life and that he loved his family and his family remembers him as a good fish. He was a strong swimmer and could go deeper into the lake than any other fish. Plus, I be he always warned the little fish to stay away from the fishermen."

"But," she asked, "why can't we make him come back alive so that he can keep telling the other fish to be safe?"

And that, in a nutshell, is my daughter. No human on Earth has the capacity for compassion that Gert has. She truly feels for each and every being she encounters. Reminds me of a guy who still remembers some old man he saw walking down a busy road on a hot summer day and, to this day, regrets not offering him a ride or getting him water or something. Not that anyone would except in this day and age . . . but still.

We found Mom happy and exhausted. Gert rode my shoulders back to the car until we heard the dulcet tones of the Ice Cream Man. Off she went with money in her hands, me barely able to keep up.

We ended the day on a sugar high.

I'm a lucky guy.