Sometimes, when I'm at Woodland, I sit down on the docks in the late afternoon, as everyone is showering or shaking sand from their swimsuits or starting to cook supper as smoke drifts lazily from the grill. I slip away from grampa and gramma's cabin, shutting the creak of the screen door quietly, and walk along the dusty dirt road back to our cabin, down to our dock. It's quiet except for the hum of the lakeside, the occasional whir of boats, and the sound of loons echoing their songs across the lake. My flipflops slap on the thin warped wood of the dock and I take them off, plunking myself down at the edge of the dock. I drop my feet in the water and splash the lake across my face and breathe in deep as the sky.
It's in those moments that I feel so very blessed, and my heart is so very full. It's in those moments that I feel wholly myself. And it's in those moments that I feel as if I'm home. A place I love, filled with people I love, for one week that I love like crazy.
This will be my seventeenth year at Woodland.
Fifteen days to go.
I am so excited.
No comments :
Post a Comment