Sunset Lake

I didn’t grow up in this town I live in now, but because of my grandparents, it became a part of my very core. There are mornings when I step outside, breathe deeply, and a tingling glee runs up and down my arms and legs in a rush of goose-bumps. And there are evenings when I sit on the back porch, close my eyes and listen; even the very sounds of the night tell me I’m “home”.

To be here, raising my children, is bliss.
There is no other way to describe it.

And just when I think it can’t possibly get any better, there are moments like last Saturday.

The family was invited to a friend’s birthday party on the very lake I spent portions of my Summers and Spring Breaks. Though my grandparents had nearly 200 acres, the front portion of their home was part of a community called Sunset Lake. Their home sat atop a hill, set off from the lake about 150 yards.

It was at this lake my kids were invited to come and swim.

Emelie begged-off to have some “alone” time at home, but Meredith and Kenny were excited to go. I looked forward to spending a few hours on the lake with Jeff, enjoying the sweet reunion of sights, sounds, smells and memories.

Meredith was the first one in.

Kenny, not being one to jump into a lake where the bottom isn’t clearly visible, eased in – keeping his blue tube handy.

Meredith quickly pulled him out of his insecurities with “friendly-fire”.

Sisters can be annoying that way.

It has been years since I swam this lake. My cousin and I would run down to the pier as soon as Grandma would allow it and swim until we could hardly see the pier to come in.

Grandpa would take us out on the boat, dragging us in circles on an inner-tube, until our arms were weak from holding on and our bellies red from belly flops across the water.

The bottom of the lake is full of cool, slimy-feeling silt. We’d go under, digging our toes deep into it, feeling around for mussels.

Sometimes, when we were feeling particularly disgusting, we’d dive down and pick up handfuls of silt, smearing it across each others’ backs, hair, and arms.

Swimming in a lake is dirty business.

It was no surprise to my Dad when I’d finish out my week(s) at Grandma and Grandpa’s house with yellow-stained toenails; his were stained as a kid too.

He swam in the same lake.
Like I said…memories.

Watching Meredith and Kenny enjoy this place in the same way I did is one of the more heartwarming events that have occurred since Jeff finished his time in the Army and moved our family here.

At that point in our life, this amazing man…this man I love so intensely, asked me the one question I have always known how to answer.

He asked me, “Where do you want to go now?”

And I said, “I want to move home.”

And that’s exactly where he brought me.

HOME.