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| The Cottage, fireside - July 1979 |
In the early 1970's, my grandparents purchased lakefront property in southwest Michigan as a secondary residence, a vacation spot for their family. The tiny yellow bungalow that sat in a row with all the other cottages on the landing was quaint and rustic, with a small cement stoop and squeaky storm door that led out to the grassy waterfront yard.
While small in stature, the cottage was a special place, bringing together a growing family that was living in many places during many different periods of life. Here we had boat rides and bonfires, forts in the upstairs bedrooms with vintage barbies and dress up clothes, and green vinyl chairs in the main living space approved for damp swimsuit bottoms. It was so much more than a meek summertime residence, but a place where our large family could gather to enjoy each other.
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| Uncle Keith with Kevin, Dad with Rachel - Summer 1978 |
When my grandparents decided to tear down the old yellow cottage in the early-90s and build an all-season home for retirement, it was exciting. Seeing the framing and shape of the house take place didn't sink in. Truth be told, all I remember about that cold visit during the build was the ugly black coat I was wearing with pink and teal stripes. But in the Spring when we walked through a nearly finished house, I do remember being awed. The space, the bedrooms, the bathtub with whirlpool jets!
The new house was grand. And so are my memories of time spent at The Lake.
I remember...
...running barefoot on the uneven grass occasionally feeling a large root beneath my feet, hurrying from the water to the back garage to grab a tube or raft or life jacket.
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| Rachel in dress-up - June 1982 |
...my grandma's reminders to gently close the door so my napping, baby brother would not wake up.
...sitting opposite my sister and cousins on the black inner tubes in the middle of the water, ankles hooked underneath, rocking up and down until someone fell off.
...my
aunts sunbathing on the dock.
...being afraid of seaweed.
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| Rachel in the water - August 1983 |
...taking pontoon rides with my grandpa at the wheel, working on my tan on the back deck of the boat and having to share that spot with my sister.
...the Mayflies that came every June and covered the house with their dried up shells of a body. There was a time when I cut the grass at The Lake, and despite the hot temperatures, I bundled up in a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, fearful that a freshly-landed Mayfly would soar back to life as the wheels of the lawn mower rustled the grass.
...the summer my grandpa decided to get a jet ski.
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| Uncle Keith, Dad, Joel and David (neighbor boy) - Summer 1993 |
...hearing the music waft over from the Chapel during Sunday evening services.
...haircuts from Aunt Kelli, and shampoo lathered in the lake.
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| Aunt Kelli and Morgan - September 2008 |
...the bonfires that concluded our Sundays with extended family gathered in a giant circle around the pit, making funnies about politics and sharing stories from the previous week, all served with a side of JELL-O and a percolator resting on the homemade grill.
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| Bonfire - July 2009 |
...driving west towards the highway in our Chevy Caprice, sticky from sunscreen and smelly from fire smoke, as the sky turned pink and another week was underway.
I grew up visiting this place, affectionately known as The Lake, every Sunday after church, every summer. My parents, siblings and I would make the 40-minute drive after worship to enjoy the water and sun and everything that went with it. Our Sunday tradition continued through college. And when I lived in the state's capitol for a time, I had the back-road route from The Lake to my apartment down pat.
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| Rachel, Joel, Sarah - May 2003 |
Once I was married, the visits were less frequent due to our long-distance travel-time. But the three summer holidays and a few spotty trips in between appeased my craving for those relaxing Sundays of lounging, visiting and sun-soaking.
Being able to bring my own kids to The Lake was a special treat for me. To see Morgan walking down the dead-end drive pushing vintage doll buggies with cousin Luke while I enjoyed the company of my siblings - I imagine that's how my parents, aunts and uncles once felt in the early 1980s. And here we were, re-creating that for the next generation.
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| Luke and Morgan with Sarah in the background - July 2010 |
When my grandpa passed away in 1999, the spirit of The Lake changed. What I took for granted - the gassed-up jet skis, the freshly cut lawn, the wood pile ready for our evening fire - was now inherited by the other men in the family. Instead of just showing up to enjoy the generous provisions of my grandparents, there was work to be done. Whether realized or not, that was a turn-off, and so the days dwindled when our large family gatherings were a regular occurrence.
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| Grandkids and Grandparents - August 1999 |
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| Grandma in the sunshine - June 1976 |
Over the years, my grandma lessened her time at The Lake, too. What was intended to be a permanent residence changed into a summer-only dwelling while she wintered at her condo in town. It wouldn't be long, however, before she stopped staying there on the occasional weekend. Only half the family used and maintained the property frequently, and when faced with the future of this special place, it was decided to sell.
After nearly 40 years of lake living, our family is saying good-bye. Memorial Weekend will be the first that my summer will not be kicked off at The Lake.
Several weeks ago, I made my last homage. A few finishing touches were put on the upcoming garage sale items, photos were taken, and good-byes were said. No other owners were around on the landing that day. The lake was cool and quiet and still with only a few docks put into the water. Buds on the trees had just started appearing and the newness of the season had just begun. I took one last walk through the house, absorbing all I could, and snapping this serene photo from my grandparents' second-floor master suite, a view I'm certain will be missed.
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| Last visit - April 2012 |
Now another family will enjoy our spot this summer. Their kids will run around in the grass, jump off the dock into the water and share time around the fire pit. It's their turn. And yet I don't want to share it with anyone.
I've decided that it's not the actual house or that particular piece of grass that I'm sad about losing. It's the tradition. The time spent as a family. This spot was a constant for our family, a place to come home to. My grandpa's job took him all over the state and as such, he and my grandma owned many different homes throughout the years. But despite the change, the ever-growing family and new plots frequently marked on the map, The Lake remained. It
withstood the change.
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| September 2010 |
I suppose in my mind I never thought there would be an end to our days at The Lake. In my wildest dreams, my parents were going be the new Grandma and Grandpa M, and my generation was going to be the young parents with little ones running barefoot through the grass. Sadly this final chapter in our family's history book has ended. It's time to write a new book, with new places that hold special meaning, and new generations to write those stories. Getting our first chapter on paper will likely be difficult as we settle in and get comfortable with the absence of The Lake. But I'm certain with time, our sequel will be just as celebrated as the first book. Different, but filled with just as much love.
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