Faraday Lake

When I was young at the lake, I ran across the warm, sandy beach, into the refreshing shallow water, chasing little tadpoles with a bright yellow bucket. I remember watching the older boys catch fish on the old wobbly dock, celebrating each small fish they pulled out of the lily pads. I remember making new friends, playing by the shore long after dark. I remember quiet nights in my secret nook by the water, sketching fireflies and lily pads in my journal, watching the sunset on the lake, feeling the cool shade of the willow trees on my back. I remember kayaking with my sister to the far side of the lake and back, hearing the splash as the paddle sliced through the water.

When I was young at the lake, my friend and I ran through the cold water, following the waves as they crashed into each other. I remember collecting shiny, colourful rocks from the rocky, muddy clay-filled sand, comparing our finds, bragging when we had the best ones. I remember building majestic castles, rivers, and towers in the sand. I remember my excitement when I found clay sand and put it in the lake, covering my sandcastles in clay, fortifying them against the oncoming waves. I remember the small waterslides, climbing up the wobbly staircase, going downward through the slide till I hit the water with a mighty splash.

When I was young at the lake, I felt the dark water swallow me whole at our rock jumping spot as I jumped off the towering cliff and into the murky depths. I remember holding my breath as I kicked towards the surface, to exuberant cheers from my friend, who said I had the best splash. I remember waiting on the dock for the boat to come, treading the water as we waited for our turn. I remember arguing with my sister for the best spot on the red tube, watching the waves cascading from the back of the boat as it pulled our tube, falling off when we went too fast, laughing when I couldn’t get back on.

I remember warm, glowing bonfires at sunset, listening to the waves crash against the shore as I played hide and seek with my friend, finding him every time. I remember getting ice cream at the treat shop, legs dangling over the side of the dock as we licked our frosty treats. I remember singing quiet songs with my dad on the beach, listening to the soft guitar against the wind. I remember new friendships, trading addresses and promising to stay in touch. I remember packing up the car to leave. I remember watching the lake get smaller and smaller out the back window as we drove back home, feeling excited to come back the next year.