Powell

POWELL

(For Uncle Kevin. Who else?)

I've been daydreaming about Powell today. Maybe cuz of all the snow... but I really miss the place.

I miss...

Cramming into mini vans, shoulder to shoulder with cousins and brothers and aunts and uncles and grandma and mom and trekking southeast across Utah, passing signs for places like Nephi and Salina and Panguitch.

The sight of gray-green water stretched out under Castlerock as we pull into Wahweap bay.

The captain, my bachelor great-uncle, with his crazy gray Harper hair. He's welcoming us onto Señor Corona, his blonde EJP puppy by his side.

The first plunge into the water. If I'm feeling brave, it's after a launch off the upper deck of the house boat. But I always arrive in the cool lake water long after Jordan and Josh and Devin and Tanner and Austin and Tyler and Corey, who dove in the minute we got here.

The roar of music mixed with engine mixed with the crashing of the waves. Uncle Kevin, Kristen, Mom, and Bubba belting Alabama and Whitney Houston at the top of their lungs. And all of us singing Lion King and Natasha Beddingfeld because the other songs were from before our time. But we listen to those other songs with smiles, because with each song played, our parents are remembering something awesome from before we even were.

Hours playing San Francisco Rummy with Davey and Mom and Grandma and Austin and Bub and Dan and anyone else willing to sit in the heat of the boat instead of plunging under the water for a bit to enjoy a game of cards.

Davey and Kylie and I talking about living abroad and goals and hopes while reclining in the bow of The Rinker, waves rocking us gently.

Late nights falling asleep under a sea of stars, with nothing really but a sheet as my bedding, at least a dozen of my cousins giggling and dozing across the span of the roof around me. Casey and Kylie nearest me, of course.

Waking up when the sun burns my eyelids at 6:30am.

Casey catching a striper, even with all the carpfish vying for her bait.

Kylie washes the little girls' hair in the lake water with shampoo and conditioner, and combs it out and does their nails.

Climbing the sand mountain, my feet burning, leg muscles screaming, cheering for myself when I finally reach the top. Cracking up when Jordan faceplants as he vlogs while sprinting down the dune.

Trying to topple Tyler on his tube, and in my attack, getting a nose full of water as I biff it into the wake.

Corey and I screaming (mostly just for the heck of it, but slightly terrified too) when Uncle Kev pulls a cruel turn and we're bound to get 6 feet of air...and unlikely to hang on...and completely likely to have the time of our lives.

Mom and Kristen, hip to hip, crammed in the houseboat kitchen cooking enough sloppy joes to feed all the people on the entire lake.

The line midway up the red-rock, when the lake was at it's highest--in the 80's, Kevin says.

Rainbow bridge, which took us at least an hour by speedboat and a half-hour hike to get to. It looked like something from a dream, or from Disneyland (aren't dreams and Disneyland pretty much the same?).

On later trips--My husband, the merman, maneuvering around behind the houseboat without a life jacket, swimming like a fish. Myself, wrapped up in a giant shark-gray life jacket, bumbling around like the land mammal I am, the terrible swimmer I am, having a great time embracing looking terribly awkward.

Napping anywhere we can find room during the day, in between all the play, crammed into the itty bitty living room, while others are snacking on hot tamales and cheetos and Little Debbie snacks.

Talks on the back of the boat, amidst drying towels and dripping life jackets and the sun setting.

Packing up to leave, sunburnt, peeling, exhausted...
...and happy.