High Country

The wind was blowing as the road lifted him closer to mountain country. The dry, brown terrain of the valley was overshadowed by the rising rock. The lifelessness of city living was in the rear view mirror. David was focused on the road as it twisted into sharp turns. He could feel the weight shift in the rear of his Bronco as he went too fast. Every visit he would re-learn the curves that zigzagged up the mountain leading to his family's vacation home.

It was an old dear hunting cabin located above the snow line, at 6,000 feet. It was made of dark redwood coated with years of weather resistant stain and stood two stories with a steep lob sided roof shaped like a motorcycle ramp. The lower deck was a big skirt, open on one side where the ramp began. The upper deck was an outdoor catwalk, wide enough for one person. The cabin stared at the street with two windows as eyes. His grandfather built the cabin after returning home from WWII. It was a special place for David. His fondest childhood memories had taken place there. Old snapshots of David and his grandfather fishing at local lakes were taped to the walls. He and his grandfather hadn't been there together in years. He could no longer recall the details of every picture and the ones he could were fading with time.

It had been a week since his grandfather's death and he was there to carry out a request from the will. He sat at the kitchen table and read it. David's grandfather wanted to be cremated and have his ashes spread outside the cabin. David set the will down and looked across the table at what was left of his grandfather. The urn looked like a two liter plastic coke bottle with the middle removed. It had a fat bottom with slots for carrying it and a narrow opening at the top. It was designed to slowly release the ashes, making the experience more dramatic and memorable. David wondered why anyone would want to remember the worst part of a person's life as memorable.

He believed death was the worst part of living because everything a person experienced and felt during his life was lost when he died. He decided the best way to cheat death was to share life with the ones he loved. He would spend more time with his good friends and family, involving them in his activities while showing interest in theirs. They would be the center of his life and when they gathered to say goodbye they would have experiences to remember. He will have cheated death and those pieces of his life will not be lost.

David picked up his grandfather and walked across the room. He faced the wall, and sat down in the old black leather recliner. It was his grandfather's favorite chair. It was ripped and smelled like fish from years of sweaty jeans pressing dirt into it. When fully reclined, David could put his feet up and see the black and white television in the corner. It was a chair that put people to sleep and it had control of him. David looked at the pictures and remembered the last time he and his grandfather had gone fishing.

It was a narrow sandy beach, wide enough to launch rubber floaters, canoes and small boats into Old Saw Mill Lake. In old logging days, the lake was used to store trees awaiting the mill. It had several beach areas where semis would back up and drop loads of logged trees. It was man made, with an earth dam on the backside keeping the water in. The mill was on the opposite side of the lake and was the only evidence the lake once held floating trees. He tried to imagine what it looked like; massive floating pines, packed like sardines. His grandfather had called it "an efficient machine capable of processing nature on levels one could only imagine." When the mill closed, the lake became a place of recreation for summertime swimmers and fishermen. It wasn't their first time at the lake; his grandfather had fished it for years and could predict how the trout would bite on any given day.