The Last Hurrah: Trails of the Little Red Boat

Once upon a time, in a little town on the prairie, two young-hearted oldsters took their little red boat out on the reservoir for a last hurrah.  After all, 80 plus degrees can't last too much longer; it's October 15th!

Life is good.

The husband of this young couple, whom hereinafter shall be referred to as DH, is always so particular about packing life jackets, oars, etc., for a boat trip; he's quite the responsible knight-in-boating armor.

The doting wife of this couple, whom hereinafter shall be referred to as DW, also embraces a responsible approach to life; she's been spotted wearing her life vest while cleaning the boat in the driveway.

But, I digress. Back to the big pond.

DW gets into the little red ship.  As they happily begin their putt-putting away from the dock, DH mentions...’Aahhhh, DW, 'I think the oars...are missing.' 

Hmmm, said DW, we do live so close, only two miles to the garage...as she basked in the warm glow of the fall afternoon sun from a puff-filled sky.  Her cheeks were dusted by an ever-so-soft breeze off the surrounding, calm, cool water.  She glanced over at DH, his glazed-over eyes resembling those of a hunter lost in the bowels of a Bass-Pro Shop...the week before antelope season.

Life is good.

They shared deep, abiding thoughts...

'The motor always purrs like a kitten, why would today be any different, right?'

"RIGHT!"

'We only have about an hour before sunset, right?' 

"RIGHT!" 

'We checked Weather Bug so we're assured there will be no wind or storms for the rest of the day, right?'

"RIGHT!"

By now, the responsible oldsters had putt-putted to the middle of the big pond on the prairie and DW was deep into a photo shoot, logging picture after picture as she daydreamed of National Geographic awards for her surely priceless, back side shots of the one-and-only John Martin Dam.

Life is very good.

Grebes were popping in and out of the pond, Pelicans scattered here, there and yon; the paradise effect of the last hurrah was reaching toxic proportions. So DH headed the putt-putt west, leaned heavily on the throttle and the oldsters were off, flying down the full length of the pond...

Life was more gooder!

DW has a lovely friend from up north whose psychic abilities are renowned state-wide.  She had sent DW a touching message earlier in the day, but DW...had forgotten; it was the farthest thought from her mind:

"Sometimes we have to live through the valleys and experience the mist beneath the falls, to remember the magnificent views from the top."

Just in case your story-reading skills are a tad rusty, try to keep in mind that this quote is the pivotal point of this little tale of the oldster's last hurrah...

Back to the pond.

DW says to DH; "Oh Love of my long life, could we pretty please stop in front of the Point Campground so I can have one more stunning shot of the gorgeous cliffs below for my upcoming sale to National Geographic?"

DH - deep in his boater-in-shining-armor mode, quickly obliged and the putt-putt stopped.   

Silence grew gentle and warm around the oldsters.  A moment of all moments. In the distance, flowing across the water…bird sounds reverberated from the cliffs, ducks flew gracefully about overhead, and the sun rays hugged and warmed their firm, shiny skin.  The water was still, the camera worked. 

DW finished, looked at DH; there was no word to describe the magic between them.

Life is great!

After a few moments of heavenly bliss, seared into their psyches forever, DH starts the putt-putt.  Putt…nothing.  Putt...nothing, again and again and again.  Putt-putt is tired.  Putt-putt is stubborn.  Putt-putt is dead!

Life is no longer good.  In fact, life sucks!

DW looks over at DH.  No glazed-over eyes there! There was no word to describe this look.  DH looks back at DW who quickly looks back at the cliffs, and obsessively takes 97 thousand more shots! Blood pressure pills...are good...

Moments...or maybe hours pass.

"Are you sure about the oars?"

"Yes, dear Love of my life, this little ship is pretty small, I doubt they are hiding…"

"Shut up!"

DW - who is famous for tons of big ideas and no follow-through, gets the bright idea of wrapping her hand through straps of the firm, spare seat flotation device to fashion an oar, and begins to paddle. 

"Faster, faster," goads DH, "the sun is almost down and it'll be dark soon!"

"Shut up!"

Before long, magic being magic, things began to change.

"It is so quiet and gorgeous right here, right now," whispers DW.

"Indeed it is," agrees DH.  The oldsters relaxed and Nature surrounded them.  Their hearts and souls soaked up the beauty of the big pond, on a luscious fall day, in southeast Colorado.

After some time had passed, DH began to murmur sweet nothings to his little buddy putt-putt and before long, putt-putt came alive again! The oldsters hugged and all was lovely, as they quickly putt-putted absolutely-straight-back to the dock.

Life is always more gooder...living near the big pond on the prairie. It’s the occasional valleys and mists… that can be a bit bothersome.

Nature prevails.