When the Creek Runs Dry

I checked my phone again, as if willing a follow-up text into existence just by staring at the screen. Seconds ticked by but the message remained the same:

"Can't come this weekend. Family thing's come up. So sorry."

I slumped deeper into the couch and listened to the plastic wall clock tick loudly in the empty house.

Tick-tock, Tick-tock - it mocked over and over again. It was almost accusatory.

"Screw it!" I said out loud, unable to take it anymore, and then catapulted myself from the couch and straight into the laundry room on the other side of the room.

I scoured the tiny room until I found my gray, rubbery boots piled under a mountain of smelly pool towels. Still in my socked feet, I then hurried into the connecting garage to locate the last remaining hope of my wasted summer.

Once I found it, it took me less than 15 minutes to load up my bike with the patched cooler and the old tackle box into the front basket. I carefully tucked Poppi's hat snugly over my ears, as Terry had broken it only the month before (but had been too busy to fix it in all that time). Before I settled onto the seat I had doubled checked the locks on the door, since I didn't know how long Mom and Angela would be gone. As the garage door groaned shut behind me, I tested out the strange balancing at I knew I would have to pull off to make this journey work: gripping the fishing pole against the handle bars wasn't an easy feat for me then, but, after a few circular rides, at least it was manageable.

I sat for a moment on the lonely, empty driveway, and realized just how quiet the world was in the middle of a August day. Bugs buzzed lazily in the trees and, sure, the warm breeze whistled from time to time - but when the street of our suburbs sat completely devoid of cars, and lawnmowers, and screaming kids, the silence was all too deafening.

"Away we go!" I muttered to myself as I kicked off the pavement and started to ride. I remember letting out a mischievous little "WEE!" as I jumped the curb onto the street; something I knew mom would always scold me for... but only when she was around to see it.

Since the ride to the creek would take roughly 20 minutes, I was suddenly glad I risked wearing Poppi's old fishing cap instead of just packing it- the mid-day heat of South Carolina was horribly oppressive!

Sweat dripped from every open pore, stinging my eyes at times and making my hands slippery against the handle bars.

"Blue Blazes,"

The phrase popped into my head over and over again, and always in Poppi's voice: "This place's hotter than blue blazes today!"

I smiled at the memory, and of all the others that paraded along beside it:

Walking to the drugstore for ice cream and candy; jumping bikes in the playground not too far from the old house; trips to Poppi's farm to visit his horses and cows. But more importantly, in all of these now long-gone summer days, there was the creek behind farm. Where blackberries grew wildly along the fences and crawdads poked their heads out of the banks...

I came to a red light and, as I panted loudly behind a mother and daughter, struggling to catch my breath, I double-checked the street names to make sure I was still on the right track. I found I was and better yet, was only a few minutes from my destination.

"Mercy me, thank you!" I panted softly. The young girl in front of me, clad from head to toe in frilly pink, turned slightly to catch my eye before turning back to her mother as the walk-sign blinked alive. I cruised past them and continued on, the first glimpses of gray ocean coming into view.

It's funny but at that exact moment, my relieve gave way to the horribly familiar homesickness that had gnawed away in my stomach for so long.

The ocean was beautiful and vast, reflecting the white sunlight off it's waters in a way that not even crystal-clear waters could do. But it as too big. Much too big. And, sadly, far too salty for my crawdad friends.

When I skidded to a stop at the main entrance of the beach, a few older boys nodded their heads curiously at me. I paid them no mind as I locked the chain on my bike and slipped into the straps of my many treasures. The fishing pole wobbled playfully as I practically skipped through the opening of the weathered wooden fence.

An older man passed me by as I slipped under the shadows of the tree line marking the boundaries between homes and ocean.

"You're a tad late for fishing, little lady," he remarked when he took notice of my pole.

"That's okay," I shrugged as I hurried on. I didn't feel like explaining I didn't know nothing about open-ocean fishing. I just wanted to get my line back in the water.

The canopy overhead fell away suddenly as if surrendering to the blinding mid-day sun, and a thin streak of rough, gray sand stretched out for miles to the left and right. Foaming waves reached for all the beach-goers now crammed together against the high tide, with several brave souls splashing around giddily in the warm waters.

Suddenly, I was nervous as I glanced around, searching for a free-spot on the beach. Dang it, I thought, I am too late...

As I maneuvered my way through sunburning vacationers, I began to reply the chain of events of that led me to this beach in the first place:

First there was the move - and right in the middle of May... when me and my friends decided to kick off our "best summer ever!" before high school started.

"There's no reason for us to stay anymore," Mom had said.

"Not when Poppi's been gone for more than 2 years," Angela agreed. "It's a great new job for your Momma," she added, taking her wife's hands into her own. "Too good to pass up."

"You'll make lots of new friends, Sissy," Brother Terry had said once, as he packed up his bags for football practice.

"We'll come visit you for sure!" said her best friend, Louise. "Hilton Head's not too far from where you are, right? We're not gonna miss that opportunity!"

The only probably was they had missed it - all of it. Every time they made plans for a long weekend visit, something happened back home. Someone got sick; a spot in summer camp finally opened up; family emergencies suddenly dotted the calendars.

And what was worse, she had missed so many of their carefully laid plans: theme park visits, movie premiers downtown; the Fourth of July parade followed by Carmen's Quinceanera, and night-swim at the country club (Louise's brother promised to sneak them in, just once!).

They had planned to ascend the next stages of their life with a summer none of us would ever forget.

And all at once I'd never felt more left behind.

Finally a spot opened on the east-side of the beach -

Perfect timing! This wind is really stinging my eyes!

Since the tides were still too high in the day, I willingly stepped into the waves, soaking my blue jeans up to my knees in the process. I'm sure I looked strange to on lookers - clad in their neon suits and trunks - but I didn't care. Heat is heat, and even then it was nothing new to me.

Poppi's hat shaded my salty face as I baited my hook and checked my line. When everything was ready to go, I double-checked over my shoulder (fearful I might snag a tourist instead!) and let it rip.

The line whizzed cheerfully through the air before plopping softly into the ocean beyond the tugging waves. As I fished, swimmers seemed to instinctively veer away from my little zone of water - perhaps just as worried that I would accidentally I catch them by the shorts.

Time seemed to slow as I listened to my line, the way it always does whenever you go fishing. Many people hate the ensuing boredom - hence why Terry never took to joining us by the old little creek. But I relish the meditation - just listening, feeling, being. Especially when I feel like crying.

After a while my thoughts turned back to that little creek and it's crawdads. To a summer so far gone to the past, I was surprised I could even recall it at all:

Poppi held my tiny, starfish hands over the waters, guiding me through the cold shadows as we tried to catch another crawdad. He half-hummed and half-sang an old familiar tune into my ear:

"Whatchu gonna do when the creek runs dry, Honey?

"whatchu gonna do when the creek runs dry, Babe?

"Whatchu gonna do when the creek runs dry -?"

"Sitonthe bangs watchcrawdads die!" I always answered back.

He would toss his head back and chuckled, and give me a little nudge. He never seemed disappointed that we could never catch a crawdad.

"It's been a long time since I hear that one!" A voice suddenly laughed, pulling me from my memories. I whipped around and nearly tumbled into the ocean, startling the older woman who had come up behind me - a fishing pole firmly in hand.

"I'm sorry!" she laughed again. "I didn't mean ta frighten ya!"

"I-it's fine!" I stammered quickly. "I didn't realize I'd been singing!"

"That's alright, that's alright!" she assured me, taking a few paces into the waters behind me.

"You sound really pretty, you know?" she added, before tossing her own line into the sea.

"T-thank you," I answered bashfully. "I don't normally sing for people."

"Unless you're lost in thought, huh?" the woman remarked with a broad smile. Then she winked and added, "I know - I've always done that, too."

"It's a hard habit to break," I said mustering a smile.

"If you ask me, you shouldn't," she commented, giving her line a gentle tug. "Especially not when you know those songs. You from Kentucky?"

"Close. West Virginia."

"Ah! That makes sense!" she paused for a moment, though her warm smile never faded. "I'm from around Appalachia myself, originally."

"Oh yeah?"

"M-hm, born and raised. I'm only here now because the kids are grown, the divorce is over, and I can finally enjoy my fishing again." I chuckled slightly, before feeling a light tug against my line. Testing it and realizing it was a false alarm, I turned back over my shoulder and said,

"I'm afraid I still don't know much about fishing in the ocean - I've been told it's too late in the day for it."

"Darlin', I'm let in on a secret," said the woman giving me a little wink. "I don't know nothing about open-ocean fishing either!" She turned back to her line, her smile fading slightly, and added,

"Sometimes I just like to let my line in the water. Especially when things aren't going my way." I looked to her, puzzled, but before I could ask her anything, she went on:

"The divorce wasn't exactly planned, you see. At least not by me."

"Aww! I'm so sorry!"

"Well, it is what it is," the woman sighed with a shrug. "My Auntie always warned me men are as foolish as fools can be - not all mind you, of course - only when they marry too soon."

"That's good to know," I said with a frown. I wasn't sure if I should've been hearing all this from a stranger, but, in that moment, it was nice to know I wasn't the only one in misery.

After a long moment of silence, the woman startled me again when she said,

"It'll get easier, Darlin'. There's plenty of other summers to be had." I whipped around, surprised that she had read my thoughts so clearly. She glanced at me sideways, smiled, and shrugged,

"Not many young ladies enjoy fishing, so I can also tell who are my own people. Besides," she said, recasting her empty line, "you've got that same look as me right now - in transition, so to speak."

I thought about what she said for a long time. So long, in fact, that waters had started to recede when I finally spoke up again.

"I always thought Summers were safe. Like, nothing bad could ever happen as long as I could make it to May."

"That's not surprising," I heard the woman say, though I knew she was watching her line. "See, I think folks have it all wrong when it comes to the seasons and time: Summer time is the season of Youth, not Spring time. And, losing that - well- it can be uncomfortable."

"So Summers will never be fun again, huh?"

"Now, I wouldn't say that," she quickly urged. "Summer time will always be fun. It'll just be different, that's all. Sort of like - "

"The heat," we said in unison. Our eyes locked, wide and excited by the touch of serendipity. Then, the woman checked the sun, then her watch, and said,

"That's the perfect way of putting it! But there's a little more to it than that, too." She pulled in her line as she smiled at me again.

"If you're here again tomorrow I can tell you all about it then?" I couldn't help but smile back, suddenly feeling a little lighter than I had in along time.

"I'd like that," I said. "I can't think of a better way to end the season."