With love,

Today is always a rough day. This year it has been especially tough. I have felt battered from all sides. Stephen has been gone for four years. It seems like so long but at the same time so short. I felt close to him in a different way this year, I was pretty sick through Thanksgiving break. All of us kids were there except Jacob and Stephen who are serving missions. I couldn't eat Thanksgiving dinner. It reminded me of Stephen being sick through Thanksgiving dinner. He had been so excited for it but was to out of it when it was time to eat. For some reason I have remembered more of the bad depressing things this year, so tonight I decided to post a story I wrote after he died. It helps me to remember the carefree days of my childhood before we all met cancer.



Bare Feet
The Cape, paradise, the shore, all names for the well known family vacation spot in the north east. I remember when I went with my family to the cape, the summer sits fresh in my memory, kinda like when you get seawater in your mouth and you can taste the salt for hours afterward. Back before my brother Stephen died my parents rented a beach house near an ocean inlet. That week was one of pure delight where the normal world was replaced by fresh salty air and close toed shoes were kicked off so bare feet could run free. Every day offered new sights to see, new things to experience.
One morning we decided to go out and do some exploring. Pettit’s are renowned for their exploring; this is also known as we get lost a lot and end up making an adventure out of it. This time we wanted to get lost on purpose, we wanted to go out and lose ourselves in the beauty of the cape. Packing a lunch we piled into the canoe and kayaks. Leaving the cabin behind we set of hungry for new experiences, thirsty for new sights. Pushing off into the salt marsh, muscles strained to get the canoe into deeper water. Soon we were gliding out into the channel. Our paddles dipped and pulled a tune through the cool blue waves as we sang our way down the channel. I liked to watch the water churn up and around the canoe, it swirled and gurgled while reeds pushed up toward the sky on either side of us hiding the rest of the world. We marveled at the great birds which were startled out of the water as we made our way through.
Eventually we came to a small strip of sand poking out of the cool blue water. Lunch time! We stopped and set up camp. It didn’t take long for the five of us to snarf down some P B and J. Soon shouts and laughter could be heard as the five of us pounded up and down the length of the beach. We were sampling the raw taste if the wild, no one was around but us, we were free to do as we pleased. Soon the sand bar was dubbed Pettit Island, feeling pride in our ownership we built a castle to mark our new found status. Being a new colony we had no shovels or other tools to use, we had nothing but our bare hands and ingenuity. We scraped piles of coarse sand together letting the grains fall slowly through our fingertips, using water we made rough cement and put up towers, walls, and causeways. Falling back on our heels we marveled at our creation, taking pride in our handiwork.
The hours blended together as we explored tadpoles and basked in the warmth of summer sunshine. My dad taught us about the different birds which would visit the island, he showed us how the current had changed the landscape and where the best spots to fish would be. The sun became a glowing ball of crimson fire slowly sinking in the sky. I was startled to realize there were goose bumps on my arms, dusk was coming and the air had become chill. It was then that we observed that our already tiny island had shrunk in size. The tide was coming in and slowly reclaiming our small spit of land. We played in the water as it came in running around our feet. Splashing and spraying each other, we screamed in delight as we became thoroughly soaked. Too soon it was time to leave; we slowly took our places in the canoe and shoved off. Waving at our island we bid it a sad farewell. A lone gull landed on one of the few towers of our castle which still suck out defiantly above the water. We moved on silently making our way home. I turned back straining for one last look. The bird was still there, watching us as water lapped around the diminishing tower and we faded into the sunset.
Billboards and tourist guides all shout the wonders and enchantments of Cape Cod. They boast of its fine restaurants and luxury condos. They spin a story about the vast beaches and small coves. These things are all beautiful and exciting to see, but for me the magic was in Pettit Island. The rough sand squishing through my toes, the soft call of a heron as it skims the water, the smell of the salty air after an afternoon rainstorm. The sound of us all laughing and being together, just soaking in the warmth of family. If I were to go back to Pettit Island today, it would just be a plain sand bar, still poking out of the water during ebb tide. All trace of our frivolous afternoon washed away. That was one of our last family vacations before my brother was diagnosed with leukemia, for some reason I think back to the lone sea gull standing erect on the tower. He was ready to battle the tide for its perch, not fearing what was to come but content to enjoy what he had while it lasted. I held onto this image as I fought to come to terms with my brother’s sickness and death. That afternoon in Cape Cod seems like a distant dream of another life. It is when I think of this that I realize that the tide flows and ebbs and in the end the picture of what was is washed away. Only in memory is the print etched forever, a sand castle, bare feet, and a bird standing ready to fight the tide.

Love you Stephen

With love,
me