A True Girl Scout

I hold on to my sister's kayak as she paddles me and my blue tube out to the middle of the lake. The murky water brushes by me as she rows. I begin to splash my arms back and forth in a paddling motion, through the water and back. Perhaps this will help ease the weight I'm putting on my sister's forearms. As I row in the water, my eyes catch a glimpse of cotton clouds over blue sky. The clouds are hanging just above the mountain peaks in the distance. My mind drifts away at the sight of the mountains, away to a summer evening under this same New Hampshire sky, not too long ago.

The light blue is now turning a deeper purple, with flecks of orange and pink sprinkled among the setting clouds. These colors reflect off the ripples of the lake, and the disappearing sun turns the mountains into tall, dark shadows in the distance.

Our eyes admire nature's miracle, while our hands take in the warmth of the campfire. Absorbing the sunset, Gram holds up three crooked fingers and puts her right hand over her heart. My cousins and I smile knowingly at her. We are about to hear Gram's infamous rendition of her favorite campfire song. Dad pokes the blazing fire with a branch, shaking his head but grinning underneath the fake disapproval.

"Ma," he laughs, "try to hold a note this time, will ya?"

Gram ignores my father and begins singing her shaky tune through the tubes of her oxygen, "The golden sun sinks in the west. Great spirits call Girl Scouts to rest. We've had our work, we've had our play, and we have lived the true Scout's way."

It must be close to 70 years since she's been to Girl Scout camp, but she remembers every word. And since we've been listening to her sing the same song around these campfires our entire lives, so do we. Auntie Beth, Dad, and I join in for the final line, "Upon my honor I will try, to do my best great God on high. To help all others far and wide and lead the life of a true Girl Guide."

We salute the golden sunset and break out into cheers.

I reach for Gram's twisted hand and give it a light squeeze. The flames of the fire are reflecting off the lens of her glasses. Through the glass I can see her wink a blue eye back at me as she lets out a labored bit of laughter. Her laughter reminds me of a fish out of water, right on the lakeside. After a few moments, the nozzles of her oxygen tank fill up her lungs again.

Eighty joyful, and at times difficult years have been lived fully through laughter along with her life's motto: enjoy the now. It must have been a difficult realization at first, having a body that doesn't want her to laugh anymore. Regardless of the strain, her blue eyes squint in the sun, her hands hold her belly, her grand old denture teeth part ways, and she laughs.

Enjoy the now she does. She truly does.

~

When I call my father that Tuesday afternoon, I immediately hear tension in his voice. There are noises in the background, and I find it particularly strange that I recognize the noise as my Auntie Beth and Auntie Joyce.

Before he can get out the words "Come home" I am jogging down the old wooden staircase of my college apartment. My keys must have already been in the car, because I cannot remember searching for them. I take a right at the end of my street, and I am gone.

After a two-hour drive that I still have no memory of, I pull up to the house. This is the same home where my family hosts many of our Thanksgivings and Christmases. I notice my aunts' and uncle's cars lined up in a tight row on the sidewalk. I have to remind myself that this isn't a holiday. It's 2 PM on an ordinary Tuesday, a very bad sign.

My shaking legs carry me from my car through the cold December air, all the way up to her house. As I open the mahogany door, I find my grandmother's children all sitting around her in-home hospital bed. Six pairs of eyes look at me with a slight hint of defeat. Maybe they are thinking, with each new visitor, we come closer to goodbye.