Walking for Nik

Beautiful blue skies beckon on a somewhat chilly February day. Last year, snow capped in grime covered the campus and it was difficult to walk to class, much less meander the beach.

Today, I took a walk for Nik. He lived in Coeur d’Alene for a short while attending college, and I’d meet him for coffee or take him to Costco to stock him up on juice and top ramen. We’d stroll across campus, Nik in a hurry, and me just delighted to be with him. He’d be headed for 20 had he lived; instead, he never broached 18.

But I see him often in the eyes of eager young men in my classes. Last semester, a kid in my art class had his sharp wit and crooked smile, and another young man straddles the thin line between law and disorder, just like Nik did.

Sometimes, I have to go to the bathroom to cry. My glasses get smeared and my nose drips. But I welcome the jarred bittersweet memories because they make me feel closer to my boy.

Anyway, the Canada geese were calling, and I bolted from the stuffy classroom, camera strapped around my neck, and headed down to the beach wishing Nik were here with me. When he was little, we spent plenty of time at city beach swimming or at the Pack River Bridge. He always tried to convince me to jump with him, but I could never get the courage to take the plunge. I did go off the rope swing a couple times, but really, I mainly enjoyed watching my kids have fun in the water.

The volleyball nets were still set up in the middle of winter, joggers ran by in shorts, bicyclists sped along the pathway and young lovers held hands near the dock. A skateboarder cruised by with Nik’s black hair, and I smiled remembering Nik on his board. He didn’t like the taste of cement, and decided he preferred watching his friends or riding his bike.

He had his bike in the back of his Ford Explorer the day of the accident and it was mangled beyond redemption. That day, he had bugged me to find oil for his chain, and I’m glad I grudgingly found it for him. I admit it, I was grouchy that afternoon, but I took the time to tell him I loved him. And then he was gone.

At times, it feels like this waiting to see him again is like forever. But then, I see that kid with the crooked smile, the sun shines, the sky is as blue as his eyes were, and the chickadees are singing “hey sweetie.” Sometimes I think experiencing the death of a child has made me more aware of the beautiful things around me. When I’m feeling the lowest and don’t know how I’ll get through another minute, the Canada geese come back along the horizon or an eagle greets me as I cross the Long Bridge.

We live in a beautiful place. So, get out and enjoy it.