On the radio, Frank Sinatra was singing \u201cFly Me to the Moon.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCordelia looks up to you, Randy.\u201d Dad turned down the radio. I said nothing. I\u2019d been a little harsh to her this morning. Dad put a hand on my shoulder. \u201cShe wants to hang out with you because she thinks you\u2019re cool. Sure, she can be a handful, but\u2014”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI know, I just need to be a good example to her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI know it\u2019s not always easy. But I can count on you, right?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019ll\u2026 do my best.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat\u2019s my girl.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A yawn came from the backseat. \u201cAre we there yet?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My dad laughed. \u201cNot yet, Deedee. It\u2019ll be a couple more hours at least.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I turned back toward the backseat. \u201cHey, Cordelia?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry I yelled at you this morning.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cordelia gave me a smile. \u201cThat\u2019s ok. I know you get crabby in the morning.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYeah\u2026 but that doesn\u2019t mean I should take it out on you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her grin turned impish. \u201cIf anything, you should yell at dad. He\u2019s the one who woke us up so early.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHey now,\u201d said Dad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I laughed and held out a fist to Cordelia. \u201cAre we cool?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cordelia bumped my fist with her own. \u201cWe\u2019re cool.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
…<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We came up toward the South Shore of Lake Tahoe just after lunch time. Cordelia and I rolled down our windows. The air was clear and crisp and smelled of pine trees.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLook!\u201d Cordelia cried. I followed where her finger pointed and saw a hawk landing in a tree. The hawk screeched and another echoed its cry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat\u2019s a red-tailed hawk,\u201d said Dad. \u201cDid you know that most of the time when you hear a bird of prey calling in a movie, it\u2019s a red-tail?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cReally?\u201d Cordelia was craning her neck to keep the bird in view as we continued down the highway. \u201cWhy do they do that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWell, Deedee, if you were in charge of making sound for movies, would you want to go find each and every bird and record their call?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMaybe\u2026 rats!\u201d Cordelia sat back down again. \u201cI can\u2019t see it anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cForget the hawk,\u201d I said. \u201cLook at that!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLook at\u2014 Oh wow.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The trees had opened up and Lake Tahoe came into view, sparkling blue in the afternoon sun, the wind sending ribbons across the smooth surface. Boats skimmed the waves, adding their own wake lines as they sped off to the far reaches of the lake. Dozens of cabins dotted the lake shore, some with their own personal docks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We reached Camp Richardson and began setting up. Our campsite was just a short walk from the bathrooms and showers. Dad put the food and toiletries in the bear locker while Cordelia and I tried to set up the tent. I was just straightening out the tarp that would form the base when I felt a poke on my shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHa-ha!\u201d Cordelia stood in an en garde<\/em> position, a long stick in her hand. \u201cI got you!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I raised an eyebrow. \u201cDid you, now?\u201d I looked around for another stick. When I found one, I leapt to my feet. \u201cLady Cordelia, have at thee!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI accept, Lady Miranda!\u201d Cordelia lunged toward me and I parried her strike. We pranced around the campsite, laughing, neither one landing any substantial blows, until I eventually let my guard down enough for Cordelia to strike me in the shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAck! I am wounded!\u201d I made a large show of clutching my shoulder and toppled back into the pile of sleeping bags.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI win!\u201d Cordelia raised her arms in the air and did a little dance around the pile, throwing her stick behind her. She came over to help me up, but I pulled her down into the pile and poked her in the ribs. She squealed and tried to return fire, but I grabbed her retaliating hand and continued to tickle her. Soon we were both breathless with laughter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat happened to the tent?\u201d Dad wandered over, his tasks finished.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCordelia challenged me to a sword fight,\u201d I said. \u201cI couldn\u2019t say no.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Cordelia nodded. \u201cThen she lost.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I poked her again and she recoiled, shrieking with laughter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAll right, well I\u2019m glad you girls are having a merry old time, but I don\u2019t really want to sleep on just a tarp tonight, do you?\u201d Dad helped us both up. \u201cLet\u2019s get this tent set up and then I\u2019ve got a treat for you. There\u2019s an ice cream shop not far from here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Cordelia\u2019s eyes lit up. \u201cIce cream!\u201d Setting up the tent went quickly with the three of us working all together. As we walked over to the ice cream parlor, Dad taught us a song about the birds we might see in the forest. The ice cream was amazing. The ice cream parlor\u2019s portions were enormous. I ordered the kids scoop and I swear it was bigger than Cordelia\u2019s face. The rest of the day was spent exploring the woods around our campsite. When it started to get dark, we set up the campfire and skewered hotdogs for dinner. When we finally crawled into our tent, Cordelia fell asleep almost immediately. I lay awake, my mind drifting back to my earlier conversation with Dad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Why did she leave?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/em>I\u2019d been seven years old. It was Halloween. Mom and Dad had taken me and Cordelia trick-or-treating. I had dressed as Alice and Cordelia was the Cheshire Cat. For some reason the memory that stuck out to me was that I\u2019d really wanted to sleep in my Alice costume that night. Mom had said no.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBut Mommy, I wanna be Alice!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mom had smiled. \u201cHoney, it\u2019s been fun to pretend, but you can\u2019t be something you\u2019re not forever. You need to be yourself. Be Miranda.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n After some more coaxing, I\u2019d eventually settled for wearing my normal pajamas and gotten in bed. Mom had tucked me in and plugged in the night light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As she left, I had called out: \u201cGood night, Mommy. I love you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGood night, Miranda. Sweet dreams, kiddo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I never saw her again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The next morning, I\u2019d come out into the kitchen to find my dad sitting at the kitchen table, eyes red and a small slip of paper in his hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDaddy? Where\u2019s Mommy?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCome here, Cupcake.\u201d Dad had patted his knee. When I reached his chair, he\u2019d pulled me up onto his lap. \u201cMommy went on a trip.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhere?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He just shook his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhen will she get back?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI don\u2019t\u2014\u201d His voice cracked, and he\u2019d pulled me tight into a hug. \u201cI don\u2019t think Mommy is coming back.\u201d Dad had never shown me the note. I don\u2019t even know if he\u2019d kept it. If Mom had told him in the note where she was headed, he\u2019d never shared with us. It was probably for the best.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I rolled over and curled myself into a fetal position. If he told me now, would I even care? Would I want to look for her? What about Cordelia?<\/em><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n …<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I woke up to sunlight streaming through the tent\u2019s window. The cold morning air smelled of pine and the smoky memory of the campfire. I rolled over and saw a lump of sleeping bag on the other side of the tent. Dad must still be asleep. I turned to Cordelia.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She was gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I shoved my way out of the sleeping bag and made my way to the door of the tent. I poked my head out, and all the residual warmth from my sleeping bag disappeared from my body.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Snuffling around our campsite was a black bear cub. Its ears perked and it looked in the direction of the restrooms. Around the bend came Cordelia, whistling cheerily. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the bear. They regarded one another, the bear cocking its head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHello, little one,\u201d Cordelia said, not moving. \u201cWhat are you looking for?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCordelia!\u201d I hissed. The bear turned toward me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Cordelia shuffled her way around the campsite, doing her best to stay away from the cub. She was halfway around when a low grunt sounded from the bushes behind her. Cordelia turned her head slowly and blanched. It was the mother bear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDad!\u201d I screamed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dad sat bolt upright and detangled himself from his sleeping bag as he moved to the door. In an instant, he took in the situation. \u201cCordelia.\u201d His voice was much calmer than I could have managed. \u201cMove toward me, honey, slowly.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n Cordelia shakily made her way toward the tent. The mother bear snorted and slapped the ground with her paw.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Cordelia made it to the tent. I grabbed her and pulled her inside, placing her behind me. The baby bear crawled over to its mother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dad stood up out of the tent, holding his jacket above his head, and yelling \u201cBOO! GO AWAY! GET OUT OF HERE!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The she-bear lowed, then turned and trundled into the woods, cub in tow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A breath I didn\u2019t know I\u2019d been holding escaped my lungs. I turned toward Cordelia and pulled her into a hug. \u201cAre you ok?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m fine,\u201d she whispered. \u201cGood thing the mama came back for the cub, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n We both sat back and stared at the tent flap.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShe\u2019s not coming back, is she?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I poked my head out the door. Just Dad, making sure we hadn\u2019t left any food behind. \u201cNo, she\u2019s\u2014\u201d Oh. <\/em>I turned back to Cordelia. There were tears in her eyes. \u201cShe\u2019s not coming back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Cordelia dropped her eyes to the ground and nodded slowly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHey.\u201d I pulled her close again. \u201cI\u2019m here for you. You don\u2019t have to pretend like everything is fine all the time. And I promise that if I do ever go anywhere, I will <\/em>come back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Cordelia sniffled. \u201cI love you, Randy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI love you, too, Deedee.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Jacob Haffner \u201cRise and shine, Cupcake!\u201d Dad\u2019s voice was way too cheery for\u2014 what time was it? I looked at my alarm clock and groaned. \u201cFive AM? Seriously, Dad?\u201d \u201cTahoe is far away, Miranda.\u201d He ruffled my hair and went to get the car started. Right. Tahoe. With any luck, maybe I\u2019d get eaten by […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":41,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_s2mail":"yes","footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[7,5,10],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.calbaptist.edu\/dazed-starling\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/76"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.calbaptist.edu\/dazed-starling\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.calbaptist.edu\/dazed-starling\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.calbaptist.edu\/dazed-starling\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/41"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.calbaptist.edu\/dazed-starling\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=76"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.calbaptist.edu\/dazed-starling\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/76\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":80,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.calbaptist.edu\/dazed-starling\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/76\/revisions\/80"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.calbaptist.edu\/dazed-starling\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=76"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.calbaptist.edu\/dazed-starling\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=76"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.calbaptist.edu\/dazed-starling\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=76"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}![\"\"](\"https:\/\/blogs.calbaptist.edu\/dazed-starling\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/13\/2021\/04\/2740575050_88819428b4_b.jpg\")