CATTIE AND THE LAKE

When I awakened, the sultry summer morning had already begun. On the back screened porch I could hear my mother at the sewing machine. It had been placed there because in pre air-conditioned 1931 in Northwest Florida, this was the coolest place in the house. Mamma was up early making beach pajamas, the latest style in summer wear, for my sister and me.

I'd watched the day before as Mamma cut out the material on the dining room table according to the Butterick pattern with the picture of the wide-legged outfit on the cover. When we'd selected the small floral print at King's Dry Good Store, the saleslady said she thought my sister and I would “look so cute” dressed alike. I liked the style, but since I was growing older, I didn't especially want to have an identical costume. I didn’t say this out loud. My mother just seemed to know my feelings. As we left the store, she explained that it would save a little money if she made the beach pajamas from the same cloth, and with the Depression on, we didn't have much money to spend.

Mamma was getting our clothes ready for a trip from our home in De Funiak Springs to visit her sister in Quincy, near Tallahassee. Cattie, our nurse, was going with us. Mamma also planned to make two new dresses for Cattie.

My mother enjoyed sewing, but ever since she'd begun teaching more piano pupils she didn't have as much time for sewing, and the departure date for our trip was nearing.

As I lay in bed slowly coming to life, I pictured Mamma at the sewing machine and was sorry I'd missed the morning pleasure of watching her brush her long, dark brown hair, wrap it around in a circle at the back of he head and then secure it with large, tortoise shell hair pins.

Above the sound of the sewing machine I could hear my five-year-o}, sister Chris pleading, “I want my bathing suit on. Please, Cathie, help me put on my bathing suit.” I was glad I was two years older and didn't need help in dressing.

As I listened, I guessed what the answer would be. Cattie, our nurse (who today would be called a babysitter, but with much more authority), Would calmly explain, "When your Mamma says you can go swimming the lake, you can go. Besides, it's too soon. Your breakfast ain't settled yet."

I can't recall why I overslept, unless it was that we had been allowed to stay up late because the night had been so hot. Although Chris and I nodded as we listened to our parents and the neighbors talk, we got to stay outside on the front porch, where in the evening there was some respite from the heat.

Summer nights were enchanting with the moon's glistening reflection On the lake in front of our house, the soothing sounds of crickets, and the fragrance of magnolias which somehow became stronger at night.

Now with a new day it was time to get out of bed and join in the chorus of, "When can we go swimming?" We had obviously missed any chance of a before breakfast swim, which was always gloriously exciting in the just-after-dawn light.

“Well, Maryrie,” Cattie greeted me as I walked into the kitchen. “It's about time you got yourself out of bed.” Never was she as gentle with me as with my sister. Perhaps because my sister was the baby, “her baby.” Cattie had come to us shortly after my birth, but she was present when Chris was born. In addition, my sister never "ruffled any feathers.” I seemed always to be creating situations or conceiving ideas which upset Cattie's routine, and sometimes the whole household.

My sister hovered about while I quickly ate breakfast. Then, together and in turn, we took up the swimming plea. To my sister, Cattie replied, “Honey, I ain't got but two hands, and as you can see, they're busy."

This “I ain't got but two hands" answer was very familiar and it meant we'd be waiting a long time before Cattie would take us down to the lake, so I persisted, tenaciously. My mother, who was usually very patient, called to me from the porch with a reprimand so unlike her that it stung, though it certainly fit my behavior. "Marjorie, I'll declare, you are as determined as an old fly. Just when you think it's gone, it comes back again buzzing around and bothering you. You must stop this. Catherine and I have much to do. We will all go soon.”

By the time we finally got to put on our scratchy, wool bathing suits and run, run as fast as we could to the lake, the struggle and the interminable wait to get there was forgotten- at least for the moment. The water was soft and cool. The gently sloping clear bottom allowed us to gradually wade in, deeper and deeper until we had to swim to stay afloat. Could anything be more wonderful than swimming in the lake? Could anything be as painful as having to leave it?

Although this was a daily routine throughout the summer, the experience was always fresh, always exhilarating. On the barefoot walk back up the hill with towels drawn over our wet bodies, we concentrated on not stepping on the prickly sandspurs, which could penetrate our feet. Overhead the blue jays and crows announced it was getting hot, hot, hot.

Ten summers later I took what was to be a final swim in the lake, just at sun up. The previous evening I had challenged a young man to the delightfully remembered early swim, suggesting boldly that we try to make it across the lake. I thought he too found the idea appealing.

For this swim I did not have to ask my mother. Cattie had married and moved to another town. I planned to leave my sister sleeping.

Next morning I arose with the same expectancy as in childhood and raced all the way down to the lake. I waited for the fun of his company in swimming. He never did appear. Later, he would explain that he hadn't thought I was serious.

For awhile, I was disappointed that my friend had not kept our date. At the same time, I loved the quiet of swimming all alone. Little was stirring, not even a mockingbird. I swam until cars and people began to move about on their way to work. I knew I should leave, but was as reluctant as ever to do so.

All at once I heard in my head Cattie's voice calling, “Marj'ri I don told you ten times to get out. Come on now, right now. You hear me? 

"Yes ma'am, I'm coming." When Cattie got that tone of voice I obeyed . Slowly I moved out of the water and walked up the bank.

I turned to look at the early sun on the water and with a cold shive, saw the long snout just at the top of the water. As I stood transfixed, the alligator opened and closed its long jaws. Then, silently it turned from the end of the wharf where a few minutes before I'd been swimming and lazily glided back to its murky home amidst the reeds.

Was this my imagination? I am not sure, but at the time through chattering teeth I whispered, "Thank you, Cattie, thank you."