Did I ever tell you about the time I walked on water?
The story goes like this: We were visiting my great-aunt Lou in Central Washington during the winter. Which is great because my Great Aunt Lou’s house is exactly where you want to be.
Aunt Lou is the kind of person who makes you feel at home immediately, even if you’re not sure where “home” is. Her husband, my Joe, a no-nonsense veteran, turned school teacher, was babysitting me while my mom and (much more helpful, older) sister were attending a family function.
I should note, I don’t actually remember any of this, I’m about 2 and a half when this story takes place. But I do remember being a little scared of Uncle Joe when I was young. He’s one of the smartest people I know and is impossibly steady, but that serious demeanor was intimidating to a kid who was easily spooked by silence. It took me a while to understand the depth of his gentle soul, his kind heart, and his witty sense of humor.
Most of the time, we visited Aunt Lou’s in the summer, which was ideal because she had an in-ground pool that we used constantly. Their house sat atop a hill that used to be a fruit orchard, though now just a couple of rows of trees remain, which Joe (still) tends to every day. Lou isn’t much of a swimmer, but she would call down from the deck above when lunch was ready.
Back to 1996.My mom, sister, and Lou were attending a family function, and Joe (the saint that he is) offered to watch me, the toddler that was put down for nap. Perfect, because I am sure that there were Western movies or baseball games on TV.
At some point, Joe must’ve looked away for 2.5 seconds too long because when he found the 2.5-year-old he was supposed to be watching, there I was: awake, and standing on the deep end of their semi-frozen pool. Completely unbothered, 25’ feet and a flight of stairs away.
Joe called down firmly from the deck:
“Erin, get over here right now.”
I looked up at him and said, “Why?”
After what was probably felt like hours, I walked myself off the semi frozen pool, and made it back to solid ground safely.
And thus, the family legend of Baby Jesus was born.
What surprises me now isn’t the story itself, it’s how quickly we all moved on. No lecture, no panic. Just a quick laugh and back to business.
Being an uncle is crazy business. Apparently I didn’t play with knives or fire so it’s fine?
In recent years, I asked Joe if he was scared, and he admitted he was. But he didn’t want to startle me. That checks out. He’s always been the type to handle things calmly.
He told me, “Causing a fuss would’ve made things worse. You had the bright idea to end up on top of the pool.”
Ah, my audacity again. Whoops.
It’s a weird kind of magic. Joe couldn’t get to me safely, and I must’ve been the perfect weight for the semi-frozen pool not to break. But he did the next best thing: he stayed calm and told me to come back. And somehow, I listened.
This holiday season, here’s to the steady voices that call us off the ice, and to the ones who laugh about it later, calling us “Baby Jesus” for the rest of our lives.
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