When I look back at my childhood, the memories I most often revisit, revolve around water. My memories are centered around my grandparents lake house and my grandfather. There was nothing I loved more than spending my days on summer vacation, swimming with my cousins, my aunt and uncles, my parents, my brother and my grandfather.
The lake held secrets…My grandfather showed them to me. From a rare carnivorous plant called a, “Sundew”, to the fresh water clams that were often found along the reeds, to the bull frog eggs, the beaver dam and the trails that wound along the lake. In the water, he helped teach us all to swim, to dive and to row a boat.
He was always ageless. He had strength and agility. He could dive off any surface with perfect form. He was a well-known business man in our small town. He always sponsored my sports teams. My Aunt still refers to him as the, “Godfather” of our family.
I never thought those moments of water would end. He was a fish and I would became a fish just like him. Childhood feels like it will last forever when in reality it’s only a short precious time. Our family hid behind a facade, there was a deep seeded dysfunction slowly broiling to the surface. As a child you don’t understand these things but as you grow they fill you with an unsettling type of hurt.
We still had the lake though and the water. It was the keystone to our family staying together as a whole. As the years went by the dock fell into disrepair. The shore was unkempt, plants took over the sandy beach, the water slide snapped off its hinges but still we swam and attempted to fix the place up as best we could. Then the dock broke and my grandfather was diagnosed with cancer.
It started with a crack in the board, chipped paint and sharp tiny splinters. We would step over it, ignoring the rotting wood. We tried to ignore the cancer too but it ate away at his body. The dock finally broke in half and my Uncles attempted to tether it together with a rope. My grandfather died.
The lake lost its purpose. The water turned murky and full of tannin. I still swam. I wasn’t prepared to let it go. We came together, our entire family one day and met at the lake’s shore. We made plans to rebuild the dock and bring in a truck full of sand for the shore. We laughed and shared stories of our memories there but nothing ever materialized. The dock was never fixed.
When I met my husband, we were only teenagers and we swam there together. I saw the beauty in my memories but he only saw a beaver-dammed brown water lake with a twisting, rotting dock. He couldn’t see the place as I saw the place.
Eventually, we stopped going altogether. Time moved on. Our families moved on and we were no longer close. I don’t think we ever truly were. The dock split apart, the tether could no longer hold it and it drifted to a distant shore, lost forever. The lake house was sold. I returned home last summer, for my cousins wedding. I hadn’t seen him in almost ten years. He was nearly in tears at the sight of me and I know he remembers the memories instilled in us from that lake.
My memories of that lake are so sharply defined. From the surface, I don’t think I honestly knew my grandfather and I know he didn’t truly know me. I know he loved me and that has to be enough. I wish I could tell him that he helped inspire every word I have ever written on paper. I wish I could tell him, that his memories inspired my fantasy novels. Everything surrounding that lake, inspired my life. It’s the place I return to when I’m sad, when I’m suffering and when I’m happy.
When I swim, returning to the water like a fish on dry land, I feel a connection to something I lost and for a moment I almost regain it back. I still look for answers, for water that connects me and for docks that bind me together. I wish I could go back and fix what was broken. Maybe it was already fixed. Maybe I had my own path to follow and I let it slip away into adulthood. Realizing I can’t change the past is something I have to reconcile with so I look forward to the future. I see my own lake shore, my own dock and I’m determined to hold it together.
