To the lake and my memories

Today I feel great. I am excited to escape and drive north tomorrow to one of my favorite places in the whole world. I get to go to HigginsLake this weekend, and I am taking some of my best friends on the planet and my beautiful little nieces. There is something in my soul that cries out when we head north and the pine trees start to become very uniform. Lined up like tin soldiers who guard the gates to fun. The drive is not a short one, no direct route. But the memories are sharp and come flooding back. They speak of my childhood, of summers spent running down rocky lanes to sit in cool water and get sunburned.

As an adult when we pull up to the cottage and I step out of the car the smells wrap around me. Wood smoke, trees, leaves that you just can’t seem to keep off the ground, moss, and water. I am folded into the loving arms of my memories and usually cry a bit since my Puppa isn’t going to come through the door anymore to offer me toast with honey, or remind me to not slam the screen door. And my Grandma, who is still alive but unaware, will not stand toe to toe with me and argue, or tell me stories in the fire light of being a young girl in love. It makes me sad that this place they worked so hard for their whole lives is out of there grasp, and that it is left to those who may not cherish it the way they did. I am not one of those. I am fiercely loyal to this place, and protective of my memories and of the things that speak of my family.

 This is one of the places where I was truly a child. I can never fully explain the feeling I get, my hubby doesn’t get it but he goes along with me. He likes it for its quiet and relaxation. I like it because of the way it makes me feel; it reminds me of a safer time. I like it because when I am there I relax in a deep part of me that is always tense, always alert, always waiting for the shoe to drop.

 I feel inspired when I am there, to write poetry, to paint, to look at the stars and to sit by the fire and sing. I want to take my children there someday and have them run down the lane, sit in the sand, roast marshmallows by the fire and hear stories about my youth. To have their Puppa make them toast with honey, and have there Dad walk them to the lake, to the ice cream store.

 It’s nice to dream. And my reality is that tomorrow I head north, into my memories and I am all set to make some new ones.


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