The search is over.
I have a very good memory, but it isn’t as good as it used to be. Generally, it’s reserved for remembering only the least important trivia. That’s why when Lynnette suggested I start looking for the title to my car, I knew it would trouble. I’m pretty good about putting important things in safe places, but since I don’t have a centralized “safe place,” I always forget where to look. I thought I was looking for this white envelope with my mom’s handwriting on it. The last time I saw it, it was sitting on the stairs near the garage. “This is important,” I must have said as I picked it up. That’s how I knew I didn’t throw it away. I looked in all of my usual places, but came up empty.
I looked again this morning and found it on the top of my dresser under a little trophy for placing 4th in a pendulum competition during my senior year of high school. That was a pretty big day. I turned 18 and my semi-pet chameleon was killed by my father with the garden hose. I will try not to let that tragedy color the rest of this blog entry.
Anyway, I opened the envelope and the title was not among its contents. But that was a good thing. This meant that the title had not been in the envelope for a long time. This meant that I only had two more places to look: the filebox and the drawers in the computer room. Like most of the relics of my pre-Mililani life, it was in the drawers in the computer room. Yes, I had searched there earlier, but not deep enough because I thought I was looking for the envelope. I will try harder to have one centralized safe place.
But now for the great news: Jo’s back! Madison and I drove to Windward Mall to meet up with my friends Jo Ann and Trisha and their children for a round of Glow-Putt. Jo and Trisha are sisters. I worked with Jo at Damien and Trisha married a friend I grew up playing Little League with. Yes, Julie, it is a small world, after all.
I for one, am glad we decided against keeping score. While it’s probably true that I don’t actually possess an actual “A” mini-golf game, I didn’t bring the B-game, either. Miley – two years younger than Mad – drilled an impressive yet depressing three holes-in-one. I’m not even kidding. I saw the first one and was all “What?” Then she hit the second one lefty (dad would have been proud) and I was like “I don’t even want to play anymore.” By the time she hit the third, I was all like “When’s lunch?” But at least it wasn’t Jo who beat me so handily. She and I have a history, you see. We can’t be on the same team because she beats me at everything (then writes poems about it) and it’s worse because I really try my best. I won’t even try to soften it by calling it recreational jealousy. It’s simply a bitterness that’s subsided over time because she moved away and no longer hands me ass-kickings on a semi-regular basis. Mostly I just miss her and am thrilled to see her.
Madison had a great time. She enjoyed the black lights, the neon, the golf, but most of all, the company of other girls. When we waited for Jo and Trisha to arrive, Madison asked if she knew any of “my friends.” I told her that she did not, but that there would be some kids coming along, too. She eventually went off with them when I was still trying to get the ball in the last hole. She sat with Miley for lunch. I don’t know if Mad knows this yet, but she’s going to be a great sister if we ever get there.
Thanks, Jo, Trisha, Miley, and Julia for such a great air conditioned experience!
Hot summer streets, my living room’s burning, I sit around. Trying to smile but with Goobi and Abby I cry. Strange voices are saying (what did they say?) things I can’t understand. It’s too close for comfort, this heat has got right out of hand. It’s a pool, pool summer. Better than staying at home. It’s a pool, pool summer, almost gone.
Ahem. We made it back to Mililani in time to get to the pool. I thought there were swimming lessons at 3, but to my – and especially Madison’s – delight, there aren’t any on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Apparently, everyone else had the same idea after yesterday’s muggy-fest. The pool water was decidedly not cool. Madison had fun anyway.
She added to her growing list of pool skills once again today by jumping into the pool on her own. “Put your hands up, dad,” she said. “No,” I said. “DAD!” she said forcefully. “Hold your breath, jump in, bounce off the bottom, and I’ll catch you,” I said. “Do you think you can do that?” I continued. She cackled. She does that when she’s really excited. “Well?” “Yeah, yeah! Let’s try!” she said. So she did. When I pulled her out of the water, she started laughing and immediately requested to be placed on the edge of the pool so she could do it again. That’s the first picture.
The second picture is an idea of her own. “Dad, I’m going to jump in, then swim to you after,” she said. “Okay,” I said, parental Spidey-Sense tingling. She gave it a shot. I have to admit that it was difficult for me not to immediately reach for her, but that’s what she wanted. I put the camera down and backed off the wall to give her space. As soon as she started her jump, I sank underwater so I could see her. At first all I saw were bubbles. Then I saw her dart towards me, eyes open, small smile on her face. The arms and legs kind-of paddling and sort-of kicking. I caught her and pulled her up. “You were great!” I said. “I’m so proud of you!”
As we left the rec center, Madison said “This is my favorite pool, dad, you know why?” Of course I did. “Yeah, you love the jacuzzi, that’s why!” “Yeah, the jacuzzi,” she said. “But I love it because you’re proud of me.” No words, you know?