When I was young at the lake, I sat on rocks and I stared out. Aligning countries connected through a broad body of water, I thought. Canada and the United States separately or simply one world brought together with another. The piece in front of me, the quiet yet chaotic. Reunited by water, my family and I, enjoying the pleasant company of each other or looking up above into the bright blue sky.

When I was young at the lake, I remember the food, the smell of fry trucks up the road so good. The explosion of a juicy and tasty and salty burger in my mouth, and well distant traffic buzzed about. The sound of waves hitting the shore, the feeling of elegy on the sea-like floor. Hungry birds way up high, squawking loud, stealing kids' ice cream, making them cry. I remember the sun shining so bright until it faded out into a beautiful star filled night.

When I was young at the lake, I felt connected and happy. Laughing and goofing around, I felt free and crazy. The crystal coloured lake below, so tempting to jump in. Playing at the park, felling like a young devious kid. The love and the joy filled the air as smiles spread like an infectious game of truth or dare. Enjoying the time wishing it would never end. Not wanting to say goodbye or realize that the journey home must begin.

At the lake, I remember it all, the memories shared so long ago. I remember the stories and the warnings about the tide, kids swimming and dancing or playing on the park slide. Searching for fish or munching on a large and savoury and scrumptious dinner
dish, it’s difficult to forget or not even miss. I will always remember having my family close by and how the lake always rested peacefully at my side.