The wet, thick air surrounds my car, adding to the grim feeling 1:30 in the afternoon always seems to bring. The familiar green trees and hills pass by as we drove down the bumpy, rocky dirt road; the pit. I am not too thrilled to be going to my grandparent’s house. What teenager wants to spend the weekend in a house with no service, nowhere near any of their friends? But as I drive down the dirt road, a wave of nostalgia hits me; remembering how these weekly visits were the highlight of my childhood. Every week, my brother and I would stay here, and every week, we would walk down this same dirt road. Bittersweet ambivalence fills me as I begin to feel a bit happier about going. I turn up the music blasting through my earbuds, watching the world pass through the window. I can still remember leaving the house every morning, struggling to keep up with my grandfather’s long legs, Kody trailing behind us.  We would walk, filling the chipmunk holes in the pit with rocks. Driving down the dirt road isn’t the same as walking, collecting rocks along the way to throw in the clearing, trying to get the biggest splash, three tries each.
Pushing my bangs out of my face, I smile sadly as we drive by where the blackberries used to grow. We would pick them in the fall, when they were in season. They were big, and tasted better than any other; they tasted like home. We drive further down the road who’s name I still don’t know, passing the bright, familiar trees. After all the time that passed, I still keep an eye out for the C tree. I can’t help but think about the times when we would race my grandfather, trying to see who could get to the misshapen tree first. We are nearly to their house now, and my perspective has changed. I can’t wait to get there. The time spent at their house was the best part of my early life, and I can’t believe how long it had been, that it had been nearly ten years since I stayed there every week. I realize now that I wish I could go back. I miss the weekends with my grandparents, when things were simple, and happy; before I grew up. We drive up the hill, pulling into my grandparents driveway. I hurriedly get out of the car, grabbing my suitcase. The cold, lake air surrounding me as I walk to the front door, smiling the whole way. I couldn’t be happier to be back.