Erma Bombeck Writing Competition - Winners
2007
Erma Bombeck Writing Competition
Honorable Mention
Human Interest - Global
Don Perkins
Des Moines, Iowa
"Below The Dam"
| I can't remember much about my wife Beth's battle with cancer. She was wrestling with adversaries I knew nothing about. And most of her battles were lonely affairs. I often found her standing looking out the living room window as though memorizing everything she saw so she could hold onto it. Although I told her I was by her side to help ease her pain, I doubt I really helped much. My hugs and words seemed so impotent again her opponent. One day Beth asks, "Why don't we ever go fishing below the dam anymore?" I was thrilled that she remembered one of our old pleasures. Those last few months we go fishing as often as possible. Toward the end she is extremely weak and I must carry her from the car to the sandbar. I sit her in a lawn chair, bait her hook, and cast out her line. If she gets a bite she giggles all over while I help her reel it in. It is late October the last time. The nights have turned cold and ice has started forming in the slack water. The river, now free of its summer turbulence, makes contented gurgling sounds as it flows under the brittle ice shelves along the shore. My driftwood fire illuminates the sandbar and radiates soothing heat into the frosty night. Sparks snap and burst upward like explosions of orange fireflies. We soak up the fire's warmth and savor the smell of its tangy wood smoke. I am glad we both carry home the outdoorsy smell of the wood smoke in our clothes. Beth says, "Next time we must bring hot dogs to roast, and marshmallows, too." But there is no next time. When the ice goes out in April, Beth has been gone two months. Today Dr. Schneider tells me, "The biopsy shows your tumor is malignant." I'd like to talk with Beth now about his verdict. Beth knows insidious pain. She would understand my anger and despair. She would not think it strange to find me standing memorizing the scene outside our front window. She knows how it feels to live each day knowing you might not have another. I wish I could have understood that back when our clothes smelled of wood smoke. If Beth were here now I'm sure she would hug me and say something to help me stand and do battle. Most of all it would comfort me just to have her beside me on the sandbar below the dam holding a fishing rod and giggling with her whole body when she gets a bite. |