Most nights in the Alden household are quiet and exceptionally
ordinary. In fact, since West has
clearly inherited his father’s proclivity for sleep and won’t wake even if
thunder shakes the house, I would say that we are working on an impressive
streak of non-memorable nights which suits me just fine. As of 12:15am this morning, however, that
streak has come to a screeching halt. Ironically
enough, the most likely source of midnight shenanigans slept soundly in his
crib throughout the entire harrowing ordeal.
No, this was an adventure for Kayla and me and two oddly helpful
neighbors.
The night began much like any other night…with all three of
us sleeping soundly in our beds and dreaming of Aunt Natalie’s s’mores bars
that we unfortunately missed out on earlier in the day. As fatherhood has shallowed the depth of my
sleep over the past months, I woke shortly before midnight to a distant but unexpected
noise. Being in the midst of a
substantial heat spell with no chance of rain in the forecast for days if not
weeks, I was slow to recognize the unmistakable sound of thunder rolling across
the miles of fields to our west. As I
gained consciousness and realized that the thunder was accompanied by substantial
wind and rain, a smile crept across my face as I envisioned the life-resuscitating
effect that this unexpected gift could have on my dehydrated yard. The smile faded quickly, however, as Kayla’s
half-conscious inquiry on the status of items on our back deck elicited a
light-bulb realization that the dry forecast had lulled me to a sense of
complacency which, if exploited, could have devastating effects on our family. I shot out of bed and pulled open the blinds,
heart racing, but did not see what I desired.
I rushed on to the back deck, recklessly unconcerned by the
inappropriateness of my attire, only to have my fears confirmed. At some point in the preceding minutes, while
we were sleeping blissfully unaware, the mighty winds had dealt us a severe
blow. The wind had carried away our
inflatable swimming pool.
Now let me take a moment to explain the history and
importance of this water-filled wonderland.
To my wife, this pool which she dreamed of owning for weeks and
researched with the diligence of a new car purchase, serves as a reminiscence
of her childhood when she spent endless summer afternoons in their slightly
larger and less wind-susceptible backyard pool.
For my son, this $30 plastic equivalent of an outdoor bathtub is the
single greatest object that he has encountered in his 10 months of existence. So to say that this pool has intrinsic value to
our family is an understatement. Now
typically, the pool, filled with water, is incapable of being lifted even by
the mightiest of highland game champions.
On this fateful night, however, the pool sat bone dry due to my insistence
that the pool be drained and relocated every few days to avoid further killing
our already-dead grass.
Now back to the crisis at hand. As I rushed back to the bedroom to grab
shorts and a t-shirt, I couldn’t clear from my head the vision of our sad,
scared pool cartwheeling off into the dark night. Quick on my heels, Kayla joined me in heading
out to the backyard to begin the search.
As I took the south side and Kayla the north, our hearts sank as we met
in the driveway, no pool to be seen.
With the speed and clarity that can only be achieved by a married couple
in crisis, we quickly embraced our new roles as Sherlock and Watson. Drawing on my vast experience on the golf
course, I hastily grabbed a handful of grass and tossed it in the air to
determine the exact direction of the wind and therefore the likely direction of
flight. Kayla added that the pool had
had a basket of toys in it and that we may be able to track the trail of toys
to the final resting place. After
utilizing the momentary illumination of the lightning to scan the nearby lots
and coming up empty, I headed for the car.
With my rain-soaked wife standing solemnly in the rearview mirror, I
headed out into the dark stormy night.
As the moments passed with no shiny blue plastic 8x4
rectangle to be seen, I slowly embraced the fact that this was no longer a rescue
mission but a recovery mission. Even if
the pool were to be found, the damage would likely be too much. Oddly enough given the late hour, two of our
neighbors, an older couple in their 60s who live at the opposite end of our
neighborhood, were sitting in the lawn chairs at the end of their garage
watching the lightning. As a last ditch
effort, I decided to risk the likely heart attack that I would induce by
approaching senior citizens in the dark at midnight and ask them if they had
seen a swimming pool. As I approached
their driveway, my eyes widened in amazement.
There, sitting behind them in their garage, was a perfectly inflated 8x4
blue swimming pool. Having not recalled
seeing this particular couple ever sitting outside in an inflated pool, I
allowed my hope to rise. As I walked up
the driveway, my joy dissipated as I realized the impending awkwardness that
was inevitably to come. The conversation
went something like this:
Brad: “Hi. You guys
haven’t happened to see a swimming pool blow by here, have you?”
Old Man: “A what?”
Brad: “A swimming pool”
Old Man: (Completely serious) “A swimming pool?”
Brad: (not sure how to rephrase the question any more
clearly, especially considering that a large plastic swimming pool was sitting
directly behind him, stands in awkward silence)
Old Woman: (smiles and turns and points at the pool sitting
in their garage) “It blew right by us.”
Brad: “I’m so sorry about that, thanks for grabbing it.”
Old Woman: “Yup, blew right across that lot right there”
(proceeds to point to the lot)
Brad: “Wow, yeah, didn’t realize it was going to storm
tonight”
Old Woman: “Yup, we saw it just blowing right across the lot
there” (points to lot yet again and I begin to wonder if there is significance
to this lot, while the Old Man has yet to say another word)
Brad: “Well, thanks again”
Old Woman: “Yeah, it was just moving right along just across
the lot there.”
Brad: (having slipped quietly past a teen girl curled up in
a ball and sleeping soundly inside a child’s toy wagon and in to the garage and
now awkwardly carrying a large inflated pool down the driveway still slightly
in awe of the complete absurdity of the situation) “Ok, well thanks again.”
Old Man: (mutters loudly to his wife) “Does he really think
he’s going to get that in his car?”
I couldn’t help but smirk as I released the air valve,
smashed the pool down to the size of a basketball and stuffed the pool in the
backseat. Finally, the ordeal was over, and all was right in the world again. Returning home with the swagger of a
victorious crusader, I shared tales of my adventure with my wife before
returning to bed.
A great reminder that miracles happen every day, and
sometimes, even at night.
