definition of extraordinary

I bounced on my toes through the kitchen, into the family room, back to the kitchen following closely on my mom’s heals. “Can we go? Can we go?”  My bathing suit was rolled in my towel and tucked tightly under my arm, I was all ready to go. 

After what felt like an eternity to any young child waiting, the car was loaded.
“C’mon! c’mon!‘ I yelled as I shoved and pushed my way into the back seat.  Finally, Dad backed the car out of the driveway.  I knew the route by heart, I kept my face glued to the window watching each landmark speed by. We rounded the corner by Fowlers Market, and my toes began to tingle, as we passed the package store, my belly tickled.  As my dad was applying the breaks, I could see the tree line and sharp dip of the driveway, it was then that I would shiver with excitement. 

The car doors opened and familiarity filled my senses, a cool, refreshing breeze kissed my cheeks, the old transistor radio barked out play by play of a baseball game.  I ran towards the circle of lawn chairs squinting at the sun reflecting off the water, breathing in the array of smells, the musty old boat house, the freshly cut grass, the crisp lake and the sweet smell of old baking.  There they sat, my Grandfather, Uncle Steve, Uncle Benny & Uncle Stanley, I got a wave and a smile which was abruptly interrupted by a shout of joy, not for me but for a great play just announced through the radio.  My Grandmother sat in her chaise lounge snapping her gum and knitting away, Aunt Mary with her hair done and her signature red nails chatted away while flipping through the newspaper.   I made my way around the circle planting quick kisses on each of their checks. Uncle Stanley pulled me into his lap, and asked “how’s my girl?!” I giggled as he pulled my face to his and smiled widely.  He smelled of cigarettes, shaving cream and bakery confections, which were embedded into his skin. 

A familiar clatter leaked from the cottage, cabinet doors squeaking, dishes clanking, laughter and chitchat filled the air. I wrapped my hand around the screen door handle, pulled hard and scooted in quickly before the door kissed my backside as it slammed shut.  I ran across the cool crackling old linoleum floor, following my aunts voices to the back porch.  “Lisa!” My aunts cried, their eyes danced and huge smiles filled their faces.  They wrapped me in genuine hugs that I would squirm away a little to quickly from.  It didn’t matter if it was a week or a few hours, they always greeted me the same way.  

Through the back porch door I dashed, remembering to hold on carefully to the old railing, these were a few steep steps.  I raced down the hill, trying to watch for raised tree roots, I had suffered more than one face plant do to those nasty little buggers.  I waved my arms calling out to my uncles who were checking the stability of the old dock.  They waved back, the bright summer sun reflected off the water creating silhouettes of their faces, and although I could not see them, I felt their smiles. 

The water lapped against the lake wall, as my cousins splashed and played.  There was no need to say hello to the boys, I just needed to change into my bathing suit and then I’d see them. I ran back up to the cottage, through the back porch door across the crinkly linoleum floor to the bathroom.  Ugh, the door was closed.  I slumped onto the floor to wait.  The trees rustled outside the window, I heard my dad asking about the game.  I listened to my Mom with my aunts in the kitchen and started to count the ceiling tiles above my head, patience was not a strength of this child at the tender age of ten.  The bathroom door opened, my Uncle Jimmy tousled my hair and said, “It’s all yours kiddo!”  I couldn’t change fast enough, I just had to get into the lake!  I busted out of the bathroom, with my balled up clothes and tossed them into the bedroom.  I  darted though the kitchen, out the back door and ran, still cautiously down the hill. 

In my mind I had just gotten into the lake when Aunt Patty called for dinner.  Clearly we’d been in the water plenty long enough because all of us had pruned fingers and toes. With towels wrapped around our waists and dripping wet hair we lined up at the outdoor fireplace for our hot dogs and hamburgers.  Down the center of the long continuous picnic tables, sat potato salad, macaroni salad, condiments and green jello.  
Around the table were multiple generations, there was unconditional love, devotion, tradition, and dedication to each other.  

At the tender age of 10, what happened each Sunday at the lake was just common place, it was just what we did.  Now 35 years later, I see it as so much more.  The dedication my family had and has to each other is exceptional.  At the end of 2012 we closed the chapter on one generation, yet the newest one is continually growing. I watch my Aunts, Uncles and parents working hard to keep traditions alive, to keep us connected.  A task that in today’s world, when we rarely slow down enough to eat let alone spend time with family, is an enormous feat.  

I probably don’t tell my parents, my aunts and my uncles nearly enough how much I appreciate and cherish their efforts.  They in my mind they are not ordinary, but truly the definition of extraordinary.  When the time comes that they need to pass the torch, we will be ready to accept it.  To set a table with delectable, traditional foods down the center surrounded by that unconditional love, devotion, traditions and the dedication that I have been taught.  

I imagine there is a lake in heaven, where a circle of lawn chairs sits off to the side.  This Christmas there isn’t a ball game playing, rather a play by play of Christmas Eve events at my Aunt Trudy’s.  Grammy is clapping as the kids sing Christmas Carols, while Uncle Benny and Aunt Mary are leaning in to hear who is playing Santa this year.  Grandpa is grinning ear to ear knowing his gingerbread men are still alive and well, while Uncle Steve and Uncle Stanley are keeping tabs on which kids are Red Sox fans.  Uncle Jimmy throws his head back laughing as he listens to Amy or Christen’s little ones screaming because Santa is a little scary to them this year. 

Merry Christmas ..... here’s to unconditional love, devotion, tradition and dedication.