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Cottage On The Lake

            Every summer my family and I pack up the 1990 metallic midnight blue Eagle Premier and breeze along the empty high speed expressways of Michigan to Holland. In Holland our family stays at a beautifully furnished cottage that is sparkling with welcome even at its very enduring age. Squeaking down the front steps you view the full panoramic scene. Bare-footed you can feel the rough sand left behind by past visitors stick to the bottoms of your feet and cling to the inner most parts of your bare toes. Tip towing to the beach as not to puncture your foot by lose gravel or an odd twig that fell from the brush about the yard. Your first step into the sand leaves you with a surprised expression as you endure into the scorching sand. As you drudge your way to the lake, the faint sound of waves crashing on the shore begins to sound more as if they are all around you and eager to engulf you in the undertow. You approach women and men sizzling under the dangerous rays of the sun. The sent of sweet coconut tanning oil is flushed out by the odor of dead fish decaying on the shore line. Seagulls squawk and swoop down to the fish laying along the edge of the beach. The shouting and laughter of a beach volleyball game fades out as your eye catches the perennial lighthouse at the beginning of the pier. Little children fumbling their way to the pier with their swim trunks falling off their rear, sends a sparkle of laughter penetrating from your body. By and by the sun will melt behind the lake and people will merge into their cottages and summer homes to await such a majestic day to follow. Only, soon my family and I will be gone and disappear back into our water color painted lives near the windy city. Leaving all the pastels behind.

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