The sun dropped below the snow covered pines behind the house. Tree shadows reached across the back yard. The thermometer in the kitchen window shrank toward the teens. I saw our tracks in the snow.
The teapot whistled. I grabbed it from the stove top and poured the boiling water. Flames licked around the fresh log in the wood stove. The familiar tickng and popping heralded the coming warmth. Fingers and toes ached as the numbness wore off. Nathan and I huddled under a quilt with cups of hot chocolate. "Daddy, can we ski again tomorrow?"
"You bet, Nate. Do you want to try a new trail?"
"Yes. Skiing is my most favorite fun thing."
"It is very fun; but, I can think of things that are more fun, for me." I looked above the desk in the corner of the room. The plaque on the wall depicted a salvage diver's hardhat. Beneath it the inscription read, "To the best damn diving officer in the Nav. If you ain't Deep-Sea, you ain't shit. Thanks for your support, Vino and the boys, Long Beach Navy Dive Locker."
The sun beat directly down out of a cloudless blue sky, turning my drysuit into a personal sauna. The rumble of machinery below and the activity of the dive team on deck drowned out the cry of the gulls wheeling above the fantail. The weights on my hips and legs pinned me to the bench.
"Air to Red. Air to Green. Hat the divers." The commands of the diving supervisor, Vino, rang out, followed by the hissing of compressed air flowing into the helmet at my side. My tenders lifted the helmet and gently brought it down over my head, onto the locking ring, securing it in place. Deck noise grew muffled and distant. My world shrank to the inside of my helmet and what I could see through the faceplate.
Vino's voice, tinny and full of crackles came to me over the headphones, "Red diver this is topside, how do you hear me?"
"I hear you loud and clear. How me?"
"I hear you same. Rig breathing okay?"
"Breathing fine." Air hissed out of the helmet with every breath.
My tenders poked and prodded me me looking for leaks and loose gear. The weight of the helmet bore down on my shoulders. Sweat dripped from my nose and eyebrows. I stifled the urge to wipe them with my gloved hand.
The prodding stopped and the tenders drew away. Vino's brown face filled the faceplate as he checked me out one last time. His eyes crinkled and he smiled around his fat cigar, giving me the okay sign with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand.
"Red diver, up and over."
My tenders helped me to my feet. I shuffled to the side of the dive boat trailing the umbilical that fed air to my hat. I stepped over the side and fell the short distance to the water, crashing through the surface. Hissing exhaust became a quiet stream of bubbles. The weight and the heat washed away. I adjusted my airflow.
"Topside, this is Red diver. Surface checks complete. Leaving surface."
"Okay, Red."
I began the long, slow descent, arms outstretched, flying toward the unseen bottom. In time the water grew dark and the wreck materialized out of the gloom. The once proud warbird lay crumpled and broken on the sandy bottom.
I heard Vino's voice again, "Okay Red?"
"Okay Red."
I hit bottom and began to move toward the wreck.
"Will you take me diving someday?" Nathan had caught me eyeing the plaque.
"We'll talk about it when you're older."
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