THE CHILDREN ARE buckled into their seats, their windows rolled down so they can wave good-bye. I shake my brother’s hand and embrace my father.
“Come and see us,” I tell him.
“In the spring, in the spring,” he says. “I hate like hell to drive all the way up there in the winter.”
“Why don’t you fly in a airplane, Poppop?” Robert asks.
“Nah,” my father says, shaking his head.
“This time nobody will make you jump,” I say, laughing. He hesitates for a moment, then joins me.
“I never yet landed in one of the damn things,” he says, grinning.
“Good-bye.”
“Remember what I said. You look around and get back to me.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
IT IS A brilliant fall day, sunny and cold, the trees magnificent against a clear blue sky, and I turn onto Sixth Street and down the hill to Jordan Park.
“Where we going?” Robert asks.
“Is that a river?” asks Veronica.
The playground is next to the ball field. Veronica runs to the swings, yelling “Push me, Daddy!” Robert climbs the ladder to the slide. I have come here again compelled by a perceived imbalance that puzzles me even as I give myself to its urgings. I am pushing Veronica in the swing, hearing the rhythmic squeaking of metal, feeling vacant and suddenly very tired.
Where’s Robert? He’s not on the slide. He’s not on the monkey bars. Where is he? “Robert?” I call, holding back panic. “Robert?” Louder. “ROBERT!”
“Here I am!”
He has played a trick on us, burying himself in a pile of leaves.
“Don’t do that! Ever. Don’t you ever do that. Do you hear me?”
“Okay, okay, Dad. Jeez, I was just having fun!” He starts to cry.
“You’re right. Don’t cry. I’m sorry. I got scared. I’m sorry. Really. Don’t cry.” I’m on my knees and hugging him.
“Bet you can’t catch me!” I say, and run back to Veronica, trapped in the safety swing, who is crying out to join us. As I lift her out and put her down, Robert tags me, a little too hard, on the rear.
“You’re it!”
He runs to the ball field, and we chase him around the base paths. I’m careful not to catch him. Veronica has found a mound of leaves behind first base and is jumping in it. And I am laughing. I sit right down on the ground, and I can’t stop laughing. Tears are streaming down my cold cheeks.
“Boy, Dad, you must have thought of something pretty funny!” Robert says. He looks at me, puzzled. I can’t stop. If I could, if I could stop the laughter, I would tell him this is not hilarity, but joy. Veronica yells, “Watch me again!” as she throws herself in the pile of leaves, believing she has made me laugh so hard. I go on laughing, crying, until I am finished.
“Come on,” I say, standing and wiping my eyes. “It’s time to go home.”