late-night vernors

Recently, I have thought a lot about the past. Events that even seem so small and ancient that I'm not even sure how they entered my mind. Just last night I was sitting on our porch steps and drinking pop. My mind raced back to the nights when I was unable to sleep or was sick at my papa's house in Grosse Ile. My father used to take me out to the pool with a glass of vernors and we would sit there silently with our feet dangling into the pool. The leaves in the trees around us shifted softly in the summer breeze while I eagerly sipped the cold vernors. We used to even go out there just to watch the thunderstorms reflect across Lake Erie. I am quite sure that several times I faked being sick or tossed and turned on purpose just to get to that pool with a glass of vernors. In some way, I think my dad knew this too, but he never said a thing. Gosh, I'm not even sure how many times we repeated this midnight ritual, but I am sure that I will always remember the feelings I had sitting by the pool with a glass of vernors on those late summer nights.