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Home at the Lake MAG
As I turn off the dingy dirt road, I park my car in the driveway.
When I walk through the door dogs begin to bark and
two wagging tails are at my feet to greet me.
“Hello, Miss Katie,” comes from the kitchen where Barb
is cooking something organic,
ingredients scattered amongst the countertops.
My name is then echoed by four roaring boys
beckoning me to the basement.
I quickly say hello and flee the noise.
Upstairs, Kaleigh and Jen are ready to go out on the lake.
On our way out we grab three turquoise towels
and walk across the soft, freshly cut lawn to the dock;
the sound of bugs humming in the weeds and the warm sun engulfing our bodies.
Once the boat is unhooked, Kaleigh and I get comfortable as Jen maneuvers us into the depths of the clear blue water glistening in the shining sun.
My mind goes blank and is soothed by the sun beating down on my skin
and tickling my eyelids.
We all fall asleep to each others' stories and laughter.
The only sound comes from the water beneath us
and the occasional boat passing by.
The sudden repetition of Dave Matthews Band awakens us when Jen's phone rings.
Dinner is ready.
We slip back on our T-shirts as the sun begins to turn red and lowers.
Back at the dock, we re-fasten the pontoon to its hooks
and begin our stories where we all left off.
The aroma from the house is guiding us back inside to
the hollering boys, the barking dogs, the banging of dishes on the table.
But our sun-kissed skin, the tranquility we brought back from the lake,
and the bond that the lake creates awaits calmly inside of us
until we walk back down to the dock again.
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