I Believe in the Lessons of the Lake

I believe in the lessons of the lake. I am sentimentalist, a glorified mother and an overworked business woman. I relish in my eventful life and the chaotic disaster of having a plate that is habitually too full. I own and operate a small local business, raise three demanding adolescents and somehow manage to include time to be a full time college student.

My life hasn't always been this hectic. As a child I grew up in divided quarters in which my parents lived separately. My mother and I resided in town by the week and we had a striking lake home that we visited every weekend, and my Father lived in a modest condo adorning the banks of a different, yet beautiful, lake. Subconsciously it was embedded at a young age that any house of mine would have the beautiful benefits and breathtaking amenities of a lake.

As a young girl I would play with my Barbies in the stream that flowed downhill over the moss covered rocks emptying to the lake. Each plane of rock formation would provide a swimming pool for Barbie and set the stage for my vivid imagination. I would entertain my mental creations beneath of Spanish moss that grew downward from the trees and fantasize that I lived in a European Fortress. When the day’s existence would end, the dramatic orange sunsets would send me home to plan the adventures of a new day.

As I entered my awkward adolescent years and the friends and boys became more prevalent, the lake became a habitual weekend hangout. On my parent’s boat we would bundle more than the allotted amount of teenage hormones into the cabin and set off for a weekend of fun in the sun. Listening to music, splashing, laughing and tanning our skin into permanent sun baked leather yielded memories that would last a lifetime. Graduation came, the commencement speech was given and the tasseled blue hats were tossed- we had one last splendid summer, as a time of change was upon us- we were forced to finally grow up.

I naturally went to college in an expected exertion to show responsibility- I failed. It wasn't merely a minor setback, it was a life altering choice to deliberately fail in order to do what I knew how to do best; disobey. I disobeyed my parent’s wishes resulting in marriage to a local county boy who was far from the white collar man they had envisioned for me. We married young, at 19, and bought a modest cabin 45 minutes from the nearest town. I was in love with this simple home. It seemed utterly perfect- because it was on the lake. I was finally home. The aroma, the sound and the synchronization of the water overtake my body, mind and spirit. I had been alienated from the hypnotizing tranquility of water for too long. I don’t think I had constantly recognized that an undemanding body of water had provided me a sheltered internal comfort.

 I festooned the modest cabin in French country décor, bought the ideal pale white patio furniture and the finest grill we could afford on the salaries of uneducated 19 year old. Over the years I would sit on the covered porch and purely think. The Lake no longer was an imaginary playing ground that had provided a custom rock pool for Barbie, a European Forrest for my fantasies or a bikini binge in the summer- it became a place of comfort and clarity.

 Years commenced and the arrival of my first daughter was upon us. Our modest cabin the in the country, 45 minutes from the nearest grocery store wasn't going to accommodate our life any longer. We closed a cherished chapter in our lives and set voyage from the trusting lake to a place that implied perfection of the new family lifestyle. It was a cookie cutter house in a gated community full of budding families who worked the 9-5 job, ate dinner at the table every night and had the perfect four-legged companion to meander down the street with. We had a pristine paved driveway, fancy ivy covered fences and a perfectly positioned wreath hanging on a stunning stained glass door- but this new found perfection didn't include the lake. Instead, we had the clatter of other cars scurrying along and the echo of fellow neighbors carrying on with their eventful lives. I began to miss my modest cabin on the lake and the familiarity of flying insects the lake commonly attracted.

 I began to regret the demands constant city life had poured into our lives. In an attempt to assemble a sense of normalcy I found a smooth rock at the lake to sit upon anytime I felt overwhelmed. I would remind myself as I sat upon that rock- the lake is calm, it is peaceful. On windy days I would stare at the reckless white caps and the traitorous turmoil of the waters. I began to form the relationship of my perfectly chaotic life with the life of the lake. Some days, months, and years are calm while others are full of turmoil and chaos. We cannot manage the lake much like we cannot control lives surprises or untimely misfortunes.  However, we can remember there is always calm after a storm. The sun shines brightly and the waters lie silent. These weekly journeys to the lake sufficed for a petite moment in time. I would smell the sweet breeze and gaze at the ripples in the water. I could feel the lake- I could sense my past. I was home for a brief, yet magnificent moment.

          Recently, after years of soul searching my unfulfilled reflection in the lake I decided I needed that feeling everyday; not just when I had time to drive 20 miles to adorn my uncomfortable moss covered rock. I wanted my permanent home back. I wanted my children to recreate the memories that I had of murky lake waters, summer slashes and surveying skilled skiers in the distance. I wanted to feel complete again. I sold the house in the flawless neighborhood and journeyed back to a comforting country life bursting with imperfections but surrounded but by the security and serenity of a lake. I am at peace again and my children can embark on the voyage of making water filled memories and learning the lessons of the lake. I believe we can learn who we truly are by watching our reflections and absorbing the lessons of the lake.