An Exercise in Recreation

Christmas night in California: far from the white vista envisioned by Bing Crosby–a toasty 50 degrees in contrast to those cousins in the midwest. In Palo Alto, a young couple and their colleague gather in a living room. Julia returns from the kitchen with a plate, the smell of roasting turkey wafting in behind her. Mr. Atkinson sniffs deeply, inhaling the mouth-watering feast and longing for his knife and fork.

Julia Bell serves the coffee to her guests. The mixture of eggshell and grounds has been steeping since six yesterday evening. Her husband pauses before his first sip to enjoy its sweet scent. Like the rest of the feast on the table that night, she owes its success to the cookbook she received ten years ago, before she left her Texas kin for Stanford. Her mother left recipes inside, like hidden treasures strategically placed to combat bouts of homesickness.

Will Jr. opens his bleary eyes after a nap in his father's arms. He blinks at his parents' guest, who smiles at him and says, "Good evening." Will Jr. blinks, subconsciously making note of the singsong nature of the man's voice; the prosody, mimicking that of the Shakespearean plays he will read a decade or so down the road, helps his practicing babbles evolve into speech. He is six months old.

Will Jr. sits next to his wife, hands shaking as he cuts the Christmas roast delivered to him by a Sri Lankan woman. His baby brother sits at the other end of the table, simultaneously congratulating his brother's grand-daughter on her Harvard acceptance and telling her university is a waste of time and money. He recommends the public library as an alternative. Will Jr. struggles to unite fork and mouth; his degenerative disease making its presence painfully known. He is ninety-two years old.

The family of Will Jr. sits atop a mountain meadow in the Northwest Cascades. His namesake points out the mountain peak his father climbed before any other man, and another one he named. The future Harvard graduate listens, holding the urn containing her grandfather's ashes with care. They enjoy a meal in the springtime flowers, reminiscing about their patriarch before scattering the ashes of the man who loved mountains.

In 1915, Will Jr. giggles and points at the lighted candles adorning the table.