The dog days of summer

I took Mom out for breakfast yesterday. I had to work Saturday so I missed the traditional weekly family outing -- work is such an inconvenience.

Mom and I sat and ate our breakfast in companionable silence. If she was deep in thought those thoughts were trapped inside her mind. My mind was racing. I kept looking at her trying to decide if her appearance had truly changed or if it was her diminished mental capacity that simply made her seem different. In the end I decided I didn't know as I had never really paid that close attention to Mom's appearance. It's one of those things you never really notice until it's too late.

After breakfast I took her for a ride to Hamilton, where my sisters and I grew up.

We drove past the church we attended and I slowed down as we drove past the sledding hill that spilled out onto a pond. All the neighborhood kids would go sledding or skating on that hill/pond. But I'm told the new owner isn't inclined to let people use it. I can understand. In this days of liability and lawsuits, who wants that responsibility?

Mom stared out the window. If she knew where we were she didn't let on -- until we came to the house. She still didn't speak, but pointed to the house and tried to say something. "Yes, Mom. That's our house. I'll drive past it again." I turned the corner and turned around at the dahlia farm (so glad to see that's still there) and drove past again -- slowly. Mom looked a long time.

The first couple who bought the house after Mom and Dad sold it thought the pool Dad built in the backyard would be perfect for therapeutic use. I think they kept the pool for about a year and then realized how much work it was and filled it in. I can understand -- a little. Dad was handy and could fix almost anything so when the filter (another homemade invention by Dad) clogged Dad could tinker and it would be fixed in an hour. Mom's daily routine included skimming the bugs and leaves floating on top and then attaching a vacuum to a filter hose and cleaning the bottom of the pool. It was a tremendous amount of work.

When we first built the pool there wasn't a lot of information out there on pool maintenance. And there weren't pool stores or local stores that carried pool supplies. We had a test kit and tested ph balances and purchased chemicals for this and chemicals for that. I'm sure it was expensive and we often had pool water that varied from dirty brown to green to clear. By the time I was in high school Mom was buying a few bottles of bleach at the grocery store and dumping a bottle in every two days. The water was always crystal clear. No more testing. No more fancy chemicals. Just Mom, a vacuum and and a bottle of Clorox.

I remember those long hot dog days of summer: The sound of the water running into the pool. Mom in the kitchen, usually at the ironing board with "Talk of the Town" blaring on the radio, an industrial-sized fan sitting on the floor keeping the kitchen cool, the curtains closed to keep the afternoon sun out. We would invite neighborhood kids over to swim in the afternoon. Sometimes Mom would join us for a quick dip. She would climb down the ladder, stand on the bottom step for a minute. We would quit splashing and diving long enough for her to dog-paddle across the pool once or twice. She would get out, dry off, go back inside to change her clothes and get back to her ironing.

Around 4 every afternoon she would bring a tray of cookies and lemonade out to our screened porch and we would take a break. It was our signal that we had time for one last swim and then it was time for friends to go home.

It was a routine that was repeated week after week, year after year. One of those simple memories one tucks away and pulls out to examine and recall with fondness. I just wish I could remember Mom's face.