The Sky’s the Limit: My Journey with Maryellen

The sun is setting by the time we arrive at Maryellen’s grandparents’ house in the Georgia mountains. We tumble out of the car, and Grandpop swings Maryellen into an exuberant hug. When her feet touch the ground again, Grandmom hugs her, too. They are all delighted to be together.

Maryellen introduces me, and Mikey takes me by the hand to show off that I’m his special friend. Everyone laughs the way Mikey mispronounces my name, as “Soapy,” and Grandmom hugs me. She’s little and like a bird, not like my tall, angular grandmother.

When we’re done with our hellos, Mr. Larkin comments that it’s cold here. Grandpop nods and says that it’s been cold for a while. In fact, the pond is frozen. There’s even snow higher up on the mountain. The Larkins all exclaim about snow.

I realize then, that they probably almost never see snow in Florida. I shiver, even though I’m not cold. Carolyn has given me jeans, a sweater, and a warm jacket to wear. Instead, I shiver because I’m recalling the last time I saw snow, which was when Emma betrayed me.

Grandpop winks at Maryellen and says that with all the cold weather, the pond is probably frozen hard enough to skate on. Maryellen’s eyes sparkle. She tugs on my arm and says that she has to show me everything.

Maryellen leads me inside the cabin, and I look around and feel as if I’ve been carried back into the past again, but even farther back. Grandmom and Grandpop’s cabin is even more old-fashioned than the Larkins’ house. There’s a rocking chair facing a big stone fireplace, and a couch with a blanket draped over it. There’s a braided rug on the floor, which is made out of planks of wood. Next to the fireplace, I see a frame full of pencil sketches.

When Grandpop sees me studying them, he says that Maryellen made them. The drawings she does on the cards and letters are so good that he framed them so everyone can see and admire them. Maryellen blushes, and I can tell she’s pleased. It must be nice to have her grandparents be so proud of her. I wonder to myself if my grandmother will ever be proud of me.

On the wall next to Maryellen sketches is a calendar. I stare at the date. What is it about November, 1955 that rings a bell with me? I rack my brains, but I can’t remember.

We eat dinner in front of the fireplace, and it’s great fun because we have an indoor weenie roast, cooking our hotdogs on sticks over the fire. Grandmom lets me roast hotdogs for Mikey and Tom, and we load them up with gobs of ketchup and homemade relish. We finish the meal with popcorn for dessert.

As a special treat, Maryellen and I are going to sleep in the trailer, just the two of us. So after dinner, we wash our hands and faces, brush our teeth, and Grandpop says to “Scamper to the camper.” After the warmth and brightness of the cabin, the camper is chilly and dark. But when Maryellen turns on the light, I can see the trailer is a wonderfully compact house-on-wheels. It has a kitchen with a tiny sink, stove, refrigerator, and cabinets. There’s a hallway to the bedroom, and a bathroom that even has a bathtub and shower. Maryellen and I hurry into our pajamas and snuggle into our sleeping bags. When she turns off the light, I look through the big window and gasp.

I’ve never seen so many stars before. I tell Maryellen that where I come from, there’s so many streetlights that the stars are hidden. But now we can see the Big Dipper, and the Little Dipper, and Orion’s Belt. Maryellen comments that I’m an expert at constellations. I thank her. I’ve never thought of myself as an expert at anything. I’ve always been one half of a pair. And usually, I just do whatever Emma wants to do. I say that I wish I had a telescope so I could study the stars and get good at identifying them.

Maryellen says she doesn’t know what she’s good at. It’s hard to be outstanding when you’re always standing in the middle of a crowd like her family. Sometimes, she feels like they’re all an eight-legged monster, stuck together forever. I know exactly what Maryellen means. I often feel as if Emma and I are glued together. Maryellen sounds a bit sheepish when she admits that sometimes she likes to pretend she’s famous like Debbie Reynolds, or figure skater in the Ice Capades. The problem is, it’s hard to imagine herself as anyone glamorous when Beverly, Tom, and Mikey are all around, demanding her attention.

I have an idea. Maybe tomorrow morning, before everyone else is awake, we can have an adventure. We can go for a walk in the woods. Maryellen likes that plan, and so we say good night to each other, and I wave good night to the stars, too.

Before I know it, Maryellen is shaking me awake. She says it’s time for our adventure. When I ask her where we’re going, she says that I’ll see. She has a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. We pull on our clothes, and then quietly, Maryellen opens the door of the camper, and we sneak away into the woods.

Maryellen leads me up a narrow trail that twists its way through the pine trees. The higher we go, the more snow there is on the trees, and the thicker the cushion of snow on the ground. We go up and up. Finally, we come to a little clearing, and Maryellen says it’s her pond.

The small, secret pond seems almost magical. Pine trees circulate and stoop toward it protectively, because they’re weighed down with snow. There’s a tumbledown shed next to the pond, and inside we find a jumble of ice skates, old wooden skis, boots, ski poles, shovels, pails, and a canvas sack for carrying firewood. I shutter when I see the skis. Maryellen asks if I ski, and I quickly answer, “No.” I don’t want to anyway. Maryellen shrugs and says she doesn’t either. But maybe we can try it today. Just slip and slide around on the skis a little bit for fun. We can imagine that we are Olympic skiers. She asks me what I think.

I hesitate, and Maryellen says that instead, we could skate. Which do I want to do?