Well, we're on day 31 of summer. It doesn't feel like it's been that long at all. David and I recently returned from a 3-week vacation with my mom - first to the North Woods of Wisconsin for lakes and woods, hiking, biking, and small woodland creatures; then to Chicago for a day (Harry Potter Exhibition at the Museum of Science and Industry, anyone?); then finally to the Lake.
The funny moments:
We tried to see the Chicago fireworks, but the city magazine gave the wrong time. Like, seriously wrong. We arrived when it was over.
One evening we went out to row a boat around, but the mosquitos were so aggressive and numerous, we made a very funny picture for my cousins, shrieking and slapping and spinning in circles.
Watching a mink family fight over a freshly-caught fish while rowing around the island in a wooden rowboat built for a 5 year-old ( a perfect fit for me, actually).
We were plagued with unseasonable weather for most of the three weeks. It was fairly cold and very rainy. We braved some hikes and bike rides anyway, but it made for a surreal summer break overall. Swimming is one of my favorite things to do at the lake, and it was much too cold for me to do anything but jump in and climb out immediately.
There was a lot of time for thinking, though. I thought a lot about my family - the lake has been an enormous part of my family history for four generations. My great-grandparents met there. My grandfather and father spent all summer, every summer there. My strongest and fondest memories of my grandparents and dad are at the lake. For many of those rainy afternoons, I was remembering. My grandma let me help knead bread dough with her in the kitchen, and she and I "fished" for nails off the dock with a magnet on a string (the construction workers are careless with nails, and there were many small children crawling around). She told me a story about one of her cousins slipping on a freshly-waxed floor on her hiney, and I thought she would suffocate with laughter - she laughed so hard I very seriously thought she was going to die (I was maybe 10).
And my grandfather has such a legacy up there that the folks at church talk to us just because we're related. He loved that place - I hope, for his sake, that heaven is very similar.
And my dad. Sailing, playing the cello on the boathouse roof, playing diving games with me for hours, and taking us for long boat rides up the lake. It was the happiest I remember him.
And when we leave, it's like having to say goodbye again.
