To some this is just a body of water, that holds seaweed, snails and fish.
To me it is that and so much more.
This is my childhood’s most precious memories. This is where we would spend our summer vacation. It was heaven on earth. Swimming, fishing, playing in the woods and to make it even more spectacular we would do all this with grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.
We would swim until our arms hung like wet noodles and our lips would be purple and slap together from shivering so hard.
This lake holds hours of fishing in an overloaded boat where we were directed to be quiet or we would scare the fish. I remember fishing in wooden boats.
The campfires near the lake ate many a marshmallow and lulled us asleep.
Saturday night baths were a bar of soap and the lake.
Waking up at 6:00AM to slip “quietly” into the freezing cold lake was thwarted with the amphitheater sound system the water produced. You just can’t swim without splashing, squealing and giggling.
Snakes, turtles, crabs, minnows and blood suckers were fished from the lake.
Every summer one of the unknowns were – who will be in the cottage next to ours this year? Year after year we would meet new families spending their summer vacation at the neighbor’s cottages. Some of the families we saw more than once. A summer “boyfriend” was always a bonus.
One summer my brother and I were baptized in this water. Our Grandfather waded out into the lake with us and while the rest of the family watched from the dock, baptized us which added preciousness to our memories.
We found salamanders under logs, clams holding the world’s next largest pearls, chipmunks and other critters sharing the property.
The outhouse was a bonus of sorts. The stories, the bees, the smells!
I can’t eat fish today without my mind picturing my grandfather, father or uncles scaling and fileting fish under the tree on the blood and gut stained table they made for that purpose.
Whenever a cool breeze blows through cedar trees I am transported to that little cottage on the lake.
Upstairs in the cottage was one big room with 4 double beds. We would fight over who got what bed. Just getting up the steep narrow steps was a victory. And who needs anything besides heavy curtains hanging between the beds for privacy anyway?
Memories wouldn’t be complete without beestings, bug bites, pickers and a fishhook embedded in someone’s anatomy.
Everything tasted better, smelled stronger and felt more intensely at the lake.
To some, this is a body of water. To me, this is a slice of what awaits us in heaven.