"One never knows what chance treasures these unconscious rollers may toss up, on the smooth white sand of the conscious mind..." ~Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Being around water gives our minds and senses a rest from the world, it can calm us and transport us to another time to relive a pleasant memory. Which is the real reason for this post. Recently, my family gathered at the northern Michigan lake that was familiar to us all to say goodbye to our brother. He lived in Florida, but he was laid to rest 1800 miles away next to my parents in the family plot. We all gathered from three states for this brief encounter to the place I used to call home. As it is with many family gatherings, ours have its problems too. I shouldn't have been disappointed, but I was because there is always one who tries to be the buffer and make things right or makes excuses for those who think they're in the right. I'm that one. I am guilty as charged.
Upon arriving at the lake the first thing I did after checking in was to find a dock I could sit on and dangle my feet in the water. I have done this for as long as I can remember. Every time my parents vacationed at the lake in the summers, I ran to the lake soon as I opened the car door. After I moved to the lake as a teenager, I sought this aloneness every chance I could. I embraced my solitude of being by myself near the water. It was the one place being the new girl or popular or not fitting in didn't matter. The sound of the waves softly lapping the shore, the gentle motion of the fishing boat rocking on calm waters, and the smell of the boat motor gas did something to me. I suppose you could say, I transported myself to my happy place and did this once again thirty years after moving away. It was the gift I had given myself after a long stressful journey to get here.
All prior tensions was magically wiped away soon as I saw my pink polished toes in the water. I smiled and selfishly captured this moment in time for me alone. I thought about past years, the people, and many events that took place so many years ago. The moment I daringly plunge into the cool water my adult mind was engulfed with the fantasy of being the slim dark-haired girl of my past. The girl who wondered when a certain someone would be coming up to his parent's cottage for the summer or who I would see at the Music Box later that night. I emerged to the surface to catch my breath and caught the scent of a campfire in the distance and remembered the parties at a nearby campground. It all made me smile as I dove back under the water. The far ago memories danced like a rock song in my head keeping time with the beat of my young heart. I thought of my parents, my children and my husband. I thought of them with pride and with love. I thought of my brother who will be dearly missed.
The night before I was to head back home I saw a red pick-up truck with a business name painted on the tailgate. The beautiful Italian surname was that of that certain someone from my past. He was the boy I wondered about every time I drove by his parent's cottage when I came back home. I excused myself when I saw the person who it belonged to and asked if he was related to the someone I once knew. He said, “I am he.”
