FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
Last night we went to watch the Independence Day fireworks over the lake.
It’s become our little tradition, these past few years.
We pack egg salad sandwiches in a picnic basket, load some blankets into the station wagon, and back into a parking space so that we can sit with the hatch open, eating our sandwiches while we watch the show. Afterward, we go for ice cream.
This year was a bit different, though. It was the first year that the kids haven’t wanted to go.
Damien has little interest in spending time together as a family these days, and Lenore is in that stage where doing anything in public, where she risks being seen by her peers, is a painful embarrassment.
I suppose that’s normal for teenagers. I hardly remember it with Daniel, maybe because he was always like that, wanting to place as much distance between himself and his parents as possible, even now.
It took some convincing, and also some compromise, but we managed to uphold tradition.
Damien was allowed to meet up with some friends down by the water’s edge, and as for Lenore—she’s decided that the station wagon is downright mortifying, so instead we set up some folding chairs out on the lawn.
It was a warm night, and the fireflies were out.
We oohed and aahed together over the rain of color, the way the fireworks reflected off the glassy water, the distant booms and pops and fizzles.
At some point, Damien wandered back over to us.
He brought Callan along with him, who I suppose must’ve been down by the water with the rest of them.
The change in Lenore was instant. No more fawning over the fireworks or pointing excitedly at blinking fireflies.
Instead, she was fidgeting with her hair like she couldn’t get it to sit just right, and casting furtive looks at Callan.
I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. Of course she’d be sweet on him.
When he’s not hanging out with Damien, he’s helping Thomas around the farm, so they see plenty of each other.
This summer she’s taken to filling cold glasses of water at the tap to run out to them, asking whether they’d like to stay for dinner, that sort of thing.
And here I thought for a while it was the good manners I’d taught her.
Ha! Goes to show how long it’s been since I was a lovesick thirteen-year-old girl.
Callan is a good kid, but I don’t think he’s noticed her attention.
At least not in that way, which is probably for the best, given the age difference between them.
Two years feels like a lifetime when you’re so young.
Lenore is still quite girlish in her way, all scabby elbows and knees.
It would be good for her to stay that way a while longer, but now that she’s started to think about boys, I worry she’ll be in a hurry to grow up.
It’ll be different when they’re older. Right now, Callan sees her as his friend’s annoying little sister, but give it time. Lenore is beautiful, but she’s also bright, and funny, and talented. I imagine, in a year or two, he’ll start to notice.