Page 45 of The Leaves In Autumn
We all stop what we are doing and head outside, taking our places on the porch. The wide deep cushioned chairs are lined up close to each other, awaiting the parade audience. Barbra and Scarlett are already sitting and the rest of us claim our places.
“Aargon! Here!”
Scarlett pats the arm of the Adirondack with the purple seat, right next to her. I take my place.
“Are you ready, Princess Poppy?” Dad calls.
“Wait! Everybody put on your hats!”
A few are wearing the red, white, and blue baseball caps that have been hung on each chair. I grab mine and set it on my head. Leaning over to where Barbra sits, she gives me a tip of hers. I do the same.
“Put on the music!” Mom says.
“Okay! Get ready, Poppy! Papa’s going to play your favorite!”
The kid looks like she is not hating being the center of attention. She truly is a Lyon. Dad goes inside and brings up the chosen song. As soon as a couple of menacing notes sound, our laughter and a few groans accompany it. “Baby Shark” plays loudly, and as soon as Dad gets back to the porch, he waves on his granddaughter forward.
“Oh my God! This is the music of Dante’s Inferno,” Van says.
“At least you don’t have to hear it a hundred times in a row every day,” Parrish says chuckling.
“He will!”
“Do doo doo doo to do!” Mom claps.
It happens organically. We all begin clapping. Pretty soon, everyone is singing their respective parts in the maddening lyrics. Mommies sing, daddies, grandmother and grandfather. Poppy takes it as encouragement and pedals her little legs off, moving over the pathway her father made. She moves in front of the viewing crowd and waves at all of us idiots, like a beauty queen in the small-town parade. The sun is high, and it shines off the foil streamers trailing behind the well decorated trike.
The powerful sound of the Yellowstone, and the blue of our big Montana sky, is background for the sweet scene. A day so perfect, I feel gratitude.
I remember being in the parade with Van and Scarlett and Nobel. By the time I was twelve, it was over as far as I saw things. I didn’t want to do “baby” activities anymore. Mom felt sad about it. It makes me smile to remember how Dad then joined the parade and made it cool again. After that, he always awarded himself the trophy for best decorated bike. And made an acceptance speech to his fellow riders. Van pitched a fit about it once and threw himself dramatically on the gravel. Good times.
“Here come the boys!”
At the far end of the driveway, two cars approach. Teddy’s old Tahoe and Sam’s new Honda. Honking commences.
“I can’t wait to meet this new girl,” Scarlett says, her eyes on the car.
“Parrish, you did, right?” Mom asks.
On his face is an expression of hidden information.
“Yeah. By accident. I came home early last Wednesday and they were there.”
“There there?”
“There there.” He pauses for affect. “There.”
“Don’t remind me.”
My sister acts like every other mother I have known. They want to deny their angelic kid is sexually active. Despite all evidence to the contrary or the age of the innocent. Sam has probably been bumping uglies for at least a couple of years now. To think he isn’t, is ridiculous. But it’s kind of cute that she has taken on her role so thoroughly. And she’s about to do it again.
The cars pull behind mine. Engines off. Why are they sitting there? Van answers the unspoken question.
“Last minute instructions.”
It brings a few chuckles to the old folk. Us. Barbra leans over to her sister.
“Remember when you and I would go over our stories?”
