I'm writing from my mom's house, on Lake St. Clair. Since she moved here during my freshman year of college, away from my hometown and everything that mattered to me at the time, I've teetered on the edge of hating this place.
But it feels like home base now. Right on the water, it has become impossible to hold on to my dislike. It has always been beautiful here. My resentment for this place always had more to do with the varying degrees of misery I felt while living here - no of which, of course, had much at all to do with this actual place.
But I sat out on the dock today, reading. I spent a whole summer doing that once, and I never thought I would feel nostalgic for that terrible summer of getting dumped and spending the consequent months pulling up my socks. But at least then, while I was so sad, I was getting a tan and not working, living like a child. My life will never like that again, I don't think. So, I miss it.
The shallow water off the dock like chocolate milk, the expanse of the lake spreading out all around the peninsula dock, with little specks of Canada or Michigan (I never was clear on which it is) out on the horizon. And my mom's refusal to live anywhere that doesn't offer her a clear view of the lake. She'd rather stay here forever in this tiny house - renting, for Pete's sake! - than move inland. She knows what she's doing.
And my nephew is sitting behind me on his potty. Ha. How drastically a place can change in just a year or 2. Let it all out, little man.
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