Every other summer, my family rented a cabin on Long Lake, Maine. One of my most vivid memories of the cabin was the picture window that looked out over the lake. It was so large and clean that during the day it almost looked as if there was no window at all. You could only tell when the sun hit a certain way, letting the rays into the room; and dust particles would look like dancing fairies in the sun. We would watch the boats and especially the seaplanes which we would find fascinating.
At night, the silence was so overwhelming you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears. At night, while reading, we would rest our feet onto the glass and feel the cool night air on the soles of our feet. If we pressed our feet very hard, the chill seemed to travel up our legs. There were no lights on the lake. It was as if someone had shut every light of nature off. All we could see was our reflection in the glass.
The bedroom that my brother and I shared faced a screened-in porch. All throughout the night we could hear the insects buzzing up against the screen. They sounded so close, like the buzzing of the barber's razor when he is cutting close to your ears.
A wood dock rocked gently in the water; it was our lullaby. My brother and I would wrap ourselves in our blankets. They were pure white like new snow and as soft as sleeping wrapped in a cotton ball.
We would wake when our mother started making breakfast. We knew when Dad was awake because we could smell fresh coffee brewing. Dad would take his coffee out on the porch and blow gently on it as if he were blowing the fur off a dandelion. There was one spot on the floor that would always creak in a soothing rhythm. We could almost hum along with that sound. It sounded as if the porch was waking us up too. Good morning, good morning, it seemed to sing to us.
Every morning we would put on our bathing suits and head out to the lake. The suits always felt a little clammy, as if they were not completely dry from the day before. I would stick one foot in the lake and feel a chill all over. We were convinced that someone had planted ice cubes in the lake overnight. The water was as blue as our dungarees and was so thick you could not see your own feet. Our bodies eventually adapted to the cold, and we would swim out to the raft. We glided as if were were floating on top of the water.
I only remember one misadventure (because with me you know there is always going to be one). My brother was still pretty little and my dad offered to take me out in the canoe to go fishing.
Unfortunately, the fish had swallowed the hook or something so my father had to try to do some surgery, in the canoe, on the open water. As every other non-athletic kid would react, I freaked out. I actually jumped out of the canoe and began to swim back toward the lake's edge. And I actually took one of the oars with me!
Needless to say.....my father is trying to frantically paddle with one oar and yelling at me to get back! My mom, in the meantime, on the shore, watching me swimming away while my dad was yelling. Fortunately I'm a strong swimmer but still! What the heck was I thinking???? I made it back, and I was very dramatic -- "there was blood everywhere! It was flopping all over the boat!!!" My mom was probably thinking: "what???? A leg, a finger? what???" "THE FISH" I wailed!!
I was brought into the cabin for some ginger ale and pretzels (usually reserved only for the stomach flu) while my poor Father struggled back.
My mom, trying to remain cheerful asked, "so are we having fish for dinner??"
"Hamburgers", was the only reply.
In spite of this, I will always remember our Maine vacations as special. Hopefully my dad would think the same thing!
Make your own memories.
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