I grew up on a lake in Washington state.
When I think of Home I see the view of the lake out the picture window at the front—or was it the back?--of our house. In that picture is the Red Dock.
Memories flood my mind of things from another time.
I remember my sister almost drowning, scabs from my new fins, teenage ski parties, fireworks, and watching my own children pick lily pads.
The snapshots in my siblings’ minds must differ from mine,
yet so much time and space were shared together.
Summers we somersaulted down the hill to the edge of the dock.
Winters we made snow angels and walked out onto the frozen lake.
The seasons came and went.
The Big House was home to the ten of us.
The Little House was home to various family and friends.
Some of us came back with our children to live on the lake for a time.
Many things happened over the years in the lives of those who lived there. But everything seemed to settle in the view of the lake and the red dock.
The dock eventually lost its awning, faded to sky-gray, and got repainted. It housed a dinghy, then a small motorboat, eventually ski boat, and later my brother’s jet skis. Often it sat empty and forlorn.
A second dock was added.
Both houses were razed, and another one built.
New houses sprung up around the lake.
It is the nature of life to change.
But some things stay the same.
To see the lake still brings a sense of peace.
To sit on the Red Dock is to come Home.
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a place where I can write whatever is on my mind with no expectations of brilliance, profundity or even interest. a way to share my life, how I feel and what I have learned. a chance to find the real me because that is more important than the laundry and cleaning out closets.
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5 comments:
I have so many memories about that property, definitely including that red dock. I remember sitting on the patio first thing in the morning, watching the sun glint off the lake. That happened years after we lived there when I stayed at the big house for a couple of days, but I still vividly remember that view. I also remember fireworks all along the lake, David and Darryl putting frogs in their mouths, sitting on the floating dock as it rocked from the wake of boats going by, and the huge bush that reached up to the second story bathroom window that we loved to pick flowers from.
That was, and continues to be, a wonderful piece of property. I feel lucky to have spent part of my childhood there, and I love that I get to share that experience with you.
I define much of my childhood by that red dock- feeding the ducks, learning to swim, fireworks on the Fourth... it is the first thing I see when I go back in my mind to the lake too! Then I add the rhodadendrens, the ponds, the love seat, the "flower", the white wall, the bridge, the creek, the hill, the red patio, the high patio... I'm going to find a piece of paper and just free write or this post will be too long!! I love your writer's voice mom!! I LOVE it!
That sounds like the title of a book, perhaps you should write it! Do you have photos?
I loved hearing your memories of the lake! My sister and I have been talking about writing a book called The Red Dock. If we ever do, we would want to hear everyone's memories--with as much detail as possible. So start writing them down! Elizabeth, do you remember getting your thumb smashed in the upstairs bathroom window, and going to the hospital?
I hadn't thought about pictures. What an interesting idea....
Of COURSE I remember getting my thumb smashed! Now if only I could remember which thumb it was!
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