8 Years Ago Today

            8 years ago today, at 9:50 a.m., I pushed him out into the waiting world.  Today, on his birthday, he’s lake fishing with the men for the first time.  Julian’s a big-city boy, and had been looking forward to this; within an hour or so, he learned how to cast from his junior-sized rod and put a crawler on the hook.  Earlier, we’d stopped at the bait shop and were given a small, square Styrofoam box filled with earth, and we opened it to find out that “crawlers” means earthworms. He started to treat them like new pets, saying how cute they were.  “Don’t name them,” I said, “or you’ll get too attached.”
            Right away, Julian caught 3 small yellow perch, and learned to throw them back.
            Here at the blue wood cabin, the breeze turns into a wind and reminds me to be silent, with its “hussshhh.”  Then the sound recedes, and the sun peeks through the overcast.  I like the gray a little better, and it threatens to drizzle.  The wind makes a tiny commotion on the glass lake water.
            My son and the men were getting ready to go out on the small, square pontoon boat, with tackle boxes and life-jackets.  He moved around like the men did, even though I still think of him as my little one, the bald and pudgy baby he was, the velvety-apricot cheeked toddler.  Even though he’s taken swimming lessons and knows how to float on his back, I felt a bit nervous, and I went inside. The next time I looked, the boat was gone.  They’re on the lake somewhere.