I look out over my front yard tonight and the lake is quiet, shimmering softly in the waning twilight. There was a lot of quiet time this summer at the lake for me. I think I went fishing a few times and there were a few nights, when I just sat on the end of the dock and soaked up the sunsets. They’re just as spectacular now as they always were but something is missing. Maybe it was an old warm and wrinkled hand that was once curled up in mine as we sat there. Maybe it was the small children playing on the beach and maybe it was kids in wet bathing suits, with wet sandy hair in their faces, catching sunfish on one side of the dock and throwing them off the other.
There is something about a lake place that takes sentiment to new highs. The water-skiing, tubing and boat rides. Those evenings around the campfires you never wanted to end. You could see the flames reflected in little kids wet eyes as they stared into the fire, snuggled in sweatshirts in their parent’s laps. You waited all of your life to live like this but as much as you want to now, you can’t stop the world and just freeze these moments. Because time marches on and all to often, those who are the oldest and the ones that find the most meaning in all of this, run out of time first. I have upstairs in my house a corner for displaying all of the picture albums taken over the years. A place literally packed with thirty years of nostalgia.
I rode around the chain with my friend the other day and as we poked along the shorelines I could feel the same things that are playing out in my life right now, being played out in the many cabins and mansion we passed. How I wanted to probe the history of each and every one. How many years I thought has this been the family go to place? How many generations raced to the lake for the weekend and time with grandpa and grandma? There were a few realtors’ signs on the shorelines and for them you know, it’s the end of an era.
Soon I will turn my back on the lake for this season and Pat and I will head for the southwest where the sun is still warm. So many people have told me, “Pat and you have the best of both worlds.” But to be truthful the best is mostly used up and although we do have our moments, so much is gone to the ages. September to me is summers grand finale. I remember Neil Diamond singing the song “September Morn.” One verse is so relevant to me as I write this cool September night. “September morn. Do you remember how we danced that night away? Two lovers playing scenes from some romantic play. September mornings still can make me feel that way.”
As I navigate through the rest of life I am sure there will be many good times yet to be had. Its my hope that my family will keep the lake place so what has happened here over the last thirty years, can be repeated again in other families that too will grow up here. That they also will feel someday as I do now. And when that time comes for that final roll call, I will spend my last days right here where my heart lives. I am sure my story is being played out all over this Eden we call the lake country.
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