Think Kit Day Ten. Time to get weird.

The view.

The view.

What was weird? Watching my family scatter my dad’s ashes on a hilltop in Idaho this May.

It was ten years after his death. My sister,  my brother, my stepmother, and I drove from Boise down to the Little Lost River valley and met up with my aunt and uncle and some of my cousins.

We convened at an old family haunt known as the Goldfish Pond.

Because. There. Are. Wild. Goldfish. Living. There.

For real. It’s a hot springs out in the middle of nowhere and someone or other released tropical fish at some point. It’s awesome.

Not so awesome was the raucous crowd of rough livin’, truck drivin’, yelly folk who surrounded the pond, sorta ruining the mood for my family and me. They sucked.

It was windy. We ate lunch. I took a dip in the pond and felt connected to the past, despite the Other People.

Everyone wanted to trudge up to the top of a windy hill to scatter the ashes. I couldn’t think of anything but the scene in The Big Lebowski where ashes blow into the actors’ faces.

So I walked up hesitating. No one else seemed to feel it. My sister and stepmother tossed ashes with abandon. The wind took them and turned them into plumes like smoke. It was beautiful.  I gingerly took up a small amount and tossed them out carefully.

I felt something up there. Even though I’m an atheist.

I took photos, thinking about the view my dad would have. I made a recording of bird song. I thought about eternity.

We all walked around looking down at the ground, at the flowers and sage brush. Everyone looking for an arrow head. My dad was known for finding arrow heads.

Nobody found one.