I understand that The Green Room is surfing terminology- a place in time within the curl of a wave..Godfrey loved to surf, I tried it once and lost my shorts. He purloined the term, and used it for a special surprise.
We brought Godfrey along for a welcome weeks break, camping one late spring up at lovely Sproat Lake. “I will show you the green room ! the green room’ Godfrey cried, delighted, standing by our loaded truck, wedging his suitcase deep inside. We had not lived out west, on the island long, Mrs Gibberflat still with us, very much alive, Garnet in his cowboy hat, what a sight we were, setting out at dawn for the four hour drive.
Mrs Gibberflat my stepmother slept over halfway to the lake, as did Godfrey, they had stayed up all the night before to bake. We picked up coffee from the window of a drive-thru, (Which Godfrey found hilarious) He muttered as he tried to stay awake, “when it stops raining the sun will light the green room, “I will show you”.
.. We paused on the summit of lonely Sutton Pass, where lingered heaps of unmelted snow, Mrs Gibberflat and I went behind a bush, for lack of any other place for ladies to go.
We walked in Cathedral Grove, Godfrey in silent awe of every ancient cedar tree, is this your green room? I asked, taking his hand..not yet he replied, speaking softly.
We had a cabin by the water, arranged in a swap for two sets of luggage from our shop. A cabin by the water, cool nights round the fire, Whiskey Jacks and Jays, rainy days. The toasted, dubious marshmallows that stuck to my tongue, that Godfrey worked so hard to make, stick too in my memory of a week in late spring on Sproat Lake.
Garnet in the hammock, glued to a good book that he rarely put down. Mrs Gibberflat with the paper that I fetched for her daily so she could check the hockey scores, it was play-off time back in town.
On the fourth day it ceased raining, I was feeling rather grubby, judging sun on the lake and one solitary cloud, “it is time to see the green room, Worzel, called out Godfrey.
He wore the hideous plaid swimsuit, knitted that his mother made. I wore my modest togs, he tip-toed, I pranced out to the end of several slippery logs, then up the third limb of a partially dead, leaning tree. “Dive as deep as you can,keep your eyes open as you slowly surface, up from the green room’- trust in life I told myself, and dove in after Godfrey
Bugger me days, it was cold!! I felt like a grape, dropped in a deep green jelly mold, and the reflection I broke with my face rather than drown was mountains, trees, and sky. Crystal clear, held in perfect suspension, mere seconds as time waited upside down. Godfrey with a beatific smile floating nearby.
Garnet raised one eye from his book, as Godfrey hung on a branch his knitted one-piece swimsuit to dry. We had three more days without rain, I needed no encouragement to dive to the green room again.
We brought Godfrey along for a weeks camping break, I return there now only in my heart, in the dark months return to the green room, to the sweet, clean depths of Sproat Lake.