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Short stories: A picnic at the lake

by Scott Scherr

Created on: November 09, 2008

Heaven on the Lake

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon. The sun played peek-a-boo behind the clouds casting temporal shadows across the field as the light would shift back in its place. The lake was still too cold for swimming in April, but the sun made the chill of the day fade. Their was a slight breeze that animated the trees and tall grass. Their favorite spot was beneath the willow tree. Sometimes in the Spring a sudden rain storm would come along and the three of them would simply sit beneath the willow and watch the raindrops dance across the surface of the lake.

She packed two peanut butter sandwiches for Tommy, minus the crusts. James always preferred bologna and always pronounced it in that funny way of his, "Ba-log-na". Can't forget the potato salad of course. Also, she found three of the reddest apples in the supermarket. They were both suckers for the color. Last but not least, she baked their favorite cherry pie.

They often asked her to read stories after lunch and sometimes they would bring costumes, pretending to be an infamous pirate or the mighty hero. She made sure to bring a variety of tales this time.

It was a half mile hike back to the hidden lake on their farm, but no one ever complained about the walk. On the way the boys would often chase after geese or wander upon a frog. The entire journey, just all part of the fun.

This was the only time these days that their mother found peace. The car accident had taken so much from her, with not much left to hold on to. But the lake still possessed some of the magic, long after voices became echoes in memory only.

Time and grief were suspended here.

Before the afternoon sun began to set over the tree line, she read three stories to them after lunch and simply watched light shimmer off the lake. The hardest part was saying goodbye again, going back to the world that awaited like a cloak of sorrow she wore in an eternal season of winter.

She packed everything away, walked over to the boys tombstones beneath the willow and said goodbye with a promise to return again soon. She could still hear their laughter, and knew that some part of them would always linger here. Just as she would return to this place when her time was up.

If heaven wasn't picnics with the boys on Sunday afternoons beneath the willow tree, then she decided that it could simply do without her as she was quite content to just remain here instead.

For how could heaven compete with this?

Learn more about this author, Scott Scherr.
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