A Drop In The Lake

mom and dad

Alessa

Our little fiasco at the library brushed by along with Tuesday's classes and practice. My parents returned this morning from their anniversary trip, and my brother and I decided to plan a special dinner to round out the rest of their celebration.

"What time is Alex coming to pick you up?" Asks Dana as I shuffle into our room, ruffling my damp hair with my towel.

"In about ten." I reply, checking my phone and skipping over to my closet to pull out a nice sundress. I've landed on a black, off the shoulder, knee length dress, littered in sunflowers.

"I probably won't be back until about ten thirty, eleven. I already told the dorm supe, but just so you know, ok." I inform Dana, grabbing for my wallet and key fob.

"Okay, I'll leave the door unlocked too because I'm going to get to bed early tonight." Answers Dana.

"Really?" I ask incredulously. Dana is usually up until about midnight, earliest, trying to finish up school work, and get some personal studying done.

"Yes, really. I have to be up at five thirty to meet with my tutor and FaceTime my parents, so." Replies Dana, sombrely.

"Oh. How are they?"

"Okay, I guess. They're hoping to move down here before winter term, but dad's job seems to be making it a little hard."

Dana's originally from the United Kingdom, and has the pale skin and slight accent to go with it, but before she decided to come to Harvey Cedars High School, her parents moved to Canada because of her dad's job. Her dad works as a police officer and although he is a detective, and basically calls the shots, the current chief he is working under is not all that accommodating to his personal life.

"I'm sure they'll find a way down here, and then they'll get to see you race during the spring season." I supply chipperly.

Dana gives a simple nod and then moves to gather her laptop from her desk and then migrates over to her bed.

I begin to move out of our room, calling out a goodbye behind me, and grabbing my white high top converse.

Alex pulls up behind the dorm a few minutes later, in my dad's Toyota Corolla.

"Are mom and dad ready?" I ask the second I slide into the passenger seat.

"Yeah, mom's just finishing up and dad's answering a few work emails, but by the time we get home, they should be ready." Replies Alex.

"Okay, perfect! I'm so excited!" I chip.

"I know, me too." Supplies Alex.

Our mom and dad haven't had much time out of the house. My dad has been helping to start up the Harvey Cedars wildlife conservation center near school, so he's had his hands quite full.

Three minutes later we pull up our pebble driveway to see my mother decked out in a floor length, peacock feather patterned sundress, looking beautiful as ever.

"Dad ready?" I call from the driveway.

"Almost. You know your father, the end of the work day is midnight." She calls back from the second floor balcony.

Alex and I chuckle from below and my father picks that exact moment to come strutting out of the front door.

"What are we laughing at?" My father jokes as he comes up behind my mother to plant a kiss on her cheek. I love them.

"You." My mother pokes as they make their way down the stairs.

We all pile into the car, laughing louder than ever and just enjoying the beauty of the moment. About twenty minutes later we pull up to a mid century modern mansion turned restaurant. When we walk inside, smooth jazz rolls off the rhythm of the live band playing in the far corner, and mood lighting settles a loving tone.

Once we've all ordered our main courses, my mother's stories start up again.

"Ale, you would have loved it, the thunderstorms in Key Biscayne are so big. The first night we were there, there was this huge strike of lightning that looked like it cracked the world in half. Ugh. It was just beautiful." Exclaims my mother animatedly.

Since I was a kid, I've loved thunderstorms, the way they just float above the sky and send a crowd of itchy rain from the heavens. I used to hate thunder when I was a baby, don't get me wrong — I'm not totally insane — but then I realised that they're just loud, and there's nothing too scary about making a bit of noise.

"Oh and the turtles! They were so cute. It's the time of year where the babies make the migration to the ocean, and just seeing all of them hurry out of their burrows, on their little baby feet, is so precious." Squeals my mother.

"Yeah, and some of the mommy turtles even came out to greet their young, and the sounds they make, to communicate, are so fascinating to hear in person." Adds my father, leaning over the table to gear up for a lecture on how turtles talk to each other.

This is why I love my parents, they talk and they talk yet they never seem to get tired of sharing all they know and what they're passionate about. I hope someday I can rave on and on about something as excitedly as they do, but it's been hard finding that thing. Yes, I do love architecture and design, but I always find myself questioning whether or not I really love it, and that alone seems to be sound enough reasoning to know it's not my passion.

The rest of the night goes by so harmoniously, my mother and father talking nonstop about everything they did on their trip, from jetsking to visiting the Everglades and volunteering with a team of people whose job is to restore balance within the ecosystem. Everything they say seems like a fantasy life, and everything they say just makes me love them even more.

By the time we make it back home, mom is stumbling up the stairs, tired from reenacting all of her stories while dad drones on to Alex about the importance of removing the Burmese Python from the Everglades.

"They're eating up their ecosystem, and the big ones are driving out all of prey, so other animals —"

"Honey, could you help me to bed?" Slugs my mom, tripping over the first stair.

My mom has never been good with staying up late. She is definitely an early bird as opposed to a night owl, because the second it passes ten o'clock, she's like a drunk person, stumbling home on a sleep clouded brain.

"Oh, yeah. Here." Offers my dad, putting his hand out so that he can carry the weight of my mothers left arm up the stairs.

"Love you mom. Love you dad." I call from the bottom of the stairs.

"Love you sweety, get a good night's sleep." Calls, my mother.

"Love you Alien." Returns, my father.

A cuckle leaves my lips at his use of my childhood name, and by the time Alex drives me back to my dorm, the high I'd been riding for a majority of the night, crashes down on me, leaving me exhausted.

"Night Alex." I call out to my brother.

"Night Ale, love you." He calls back.

"Love you too."
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I can't, I am living for this story! Anyways, I wanted to communicate with you guys more, so I'll start off by asking how your day is going, and what show you're currently obsessed with (I'm looking for recommendations)?