At the bottom of the sloping hill behind the house is where the shiners are kept. Conveniently the small stream has a relatively rapid current which enables it to run, never freezing, even in the below freezing temperatures of the New England winter. The shiners swim in the wooden nursery especially hand crafted for this purpose. The small fish reside in this box year round, growing and maturing until they are adults and may be put to use.

At five o’ clock in the morning the melodious sound of her grandfather’s voice mingles into the young girl’s dream as she slowly greets the day. The nonsense words and fabricated phrases her grandfather uses in his songs are a sheer expression of his happiness and affection for life. He sings because he is happy to be alive, he sings because he is happy to begin his day with his family, he sings because that is how he has been waking up the children for the past seventy-seven years.

Elizabeth’s grandmother finds immense satisfaction in accommodating her family. In the bleak hours before the sun finds the horizon the kitchen is where she desires to be. The grandmother ages so gracefully even her husband forgets the years behind her gentle eyes when combined with the wisdom carried in her soul. She moves around the kitchen with an ethereal ease, almost gliding across the hardwood floors. The elderly woman’s morning routine has become so natural that if she woke up one morning without sight breakfast would still be made to perfection. She gets up in the morning before anyone else in the house to ensure those she loves will discover a hot meal when they enter the kitchen. After breakfast she prepares the thermoses, one with hot chocolate, and the other coffee, quickly spinning the top of each to keep in the warmth. It’s going to be cold out there today she thinks glancing out the window, I hope these stay warm for them.

Elizabeth and her grandfather packed the truck the night before to ensure an early start on the day. After breakfast the two climb in the ten-year old Ford and roll out of the driveway. The ride to the lake is Elizabeth’s least favorite part. She is not generally awake this early in the morning. Her body is a blend of fatigue and excitement as she watches her grandfather shift between gears as though the truck is an extension of his arm. Elizabeth takes off her boots and puts them on the floor, attempting to push them as closely to the heater as possible. She knows the warmer the boots get in the truck the better they will feel out on the ice. This is a trick her grandfather taught her and she will use for the remainder of her life, instructing her children to do the same.

“Should be below freezing when we get there Bethy, you ready for it?” Her Grandfather says, concentrating on the road as he drives.

“I’m getting there,” Elizabeth says with a quick yawn.

That is the extent of the conversation in the truck. Elizabeth respects the meditative silence of the morning commute, the lack of words passed makes her feel naturally close to her Grandfather. She looks out the window envisioning the mailbox in the shape of a tractor they will soon pass. The mailbox is her landmark to begin putting on her boots, scarf, hat and mittens to prepare for the impending environment. She begins to worry that she may have not packed her ice skates the night before. The unsettling feeling is fleeting as she remembers that her Grandfather had undoubtedly remembered them.

Elizabeth’s grandfather contemplates the thickness of the ice, and the best place to cut the holes to lay the traps down. He knows the ice should be entirely ready, especially considering how early the frost had come that year. Early October he remembered waking up to the white crystals lightly dusting all he saw outside. Since then the winter had been one of the coldest he could remember, ideal for hardening the lake. The frozen water should be thick enough to drive a truck straight across from one side to the other.

A quarter of a mile past the tractor shaped mailbox the truck and passengers turn onto a once dirt road, now whitened by snow. Elizabeth feels the vibrations of the aged truck, slowly rambling towards their destination. Once there Elizabeth opens the door and hops out of the truck, her feet quickly meeting the ground. She takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out, watching it materialize before her and drift away. The old man and his granddaughter fill their arms as they unload the truck and walk across the frozen terrain until the man stops, finding the exact spot to lay the traps.

Elizabeth watches, fascinated as the shiners enter their death traps. She observes the fish year round. Running to the back of her Grandparent’s house is her first priority every visit. She feels as much compassion for the death of the shiners as she does for the chickens that appear in the coop in the spring, disappear, and become Thanksgiving dinner in the fall. Elizabeth, unlike many children her age, understands that birds and fish as these are not to be enjoyed as pets, they are animals to use for survival and for this reason when absent they are never missed The death of such creatures is the most natural part of life.

The part of the lake the man and child are on is most secluded. The trees and rocks form a bay that is nearly cut off from the rest of the lake. Elizabeth’s grandfather tells the girl that is their, “special spot.” The grandfather does not own that part of the lake, but uses it because it is cut off from any traffic on the ice. Other men from the town often spend time fishing and drinking excessively while waiting for a catch. When they get bored with waiting the men partake in high speed snowmobile races over the lake. Elizabeth’s grandfather dislikes these men as they not only disturb the serenity of the lake, but pose a threat to the safety of others. Accidents between pedestrians and snowmobilers happen frequently and Elizabeth’s grandfather is more protective of the girl than he had been with his own children. He is mortified by the thought of allowing any harm to come to his son’s child.

The bait is set and the traps lower into the bitter gray water. Elizabeth’s grandfather unfolds his chair and begins to sip his coffee. Elizabeth goes over to him with her ice skates on her feet but untied. She sits on the ice with her feet up as her Grandfather ties the skates. A girl of ten is old enough to bind up skates on her own, but Elizabeth feels she is never able to find the exact tightness of the laces, and knows her grandfather is able to do it consistently with the first try. After the laces are secure she stands wiggling her toes to feel the dramatic difference between her spacious winter boots and the black figure skates that now house her feet. She skates, slowly picking up speed as she continues. It is her first time on the ice since last year.

Elizabeth is a strong skater and has been partaking in the sport for the majority of her life. Her father used to take her skating on the weekends until her parents divorced a few years ago. The constant fighting between her parents that led to the separation caused her father to find employment in the other side of the country. Elizabeth’s mother grew up in Mississippi and has never worn a pair of skates. She tries to take Elizabeth ice skating when she has time, but easily becomes cold and begs to go inside. Elizabeth is sure to take advantage of the times her grandfather goes ice fishing by bringing her skates.

Elizabeth begins to skate backwards, noticing her grandfather, slightly leaning in his chair with his hands placed behind his head, eyes nearly closed, breathing in the day. Elizabeth finds security in her grandparents believing they will always remain as one unit in her life. Feeling the sharp skates glide across the ice and watching her grandfather Elizabeth knows his marriage is permanent. She wishes to remain forever in that moment, safe with her Grandfather, waiting for the fish and floating on the blades.

Suddenly the old man jolts as he hears a spring and a flag rises to the sky. Elizabeth and her grandfather head over to the hole and pull in the trap. Elizabeth feels the excitement of viewing the contents of the trap, as though the shiners have morphed into pickerel. Maybe, Elizabeth wonders, that pickerel is the reason she is so fond of the fish in the stream behind the house. Without the shiners the girl and her grandfather would have no reason to be on the ice today, as the man is far too old for ice skating. The act of fishing was more for the entertainment of her grandfather, Elizabeth decided. She smiles, knowing as long as the waters of the stream continue the winter days with her grandfather on the ice will be infinite.