Feb 26, 2016
posted in Personal with 0 Comments
 My dad has been searching all his adult life for the chocolate shake of his adolescence.
It probably doesn’t exist anymore but that doesn’t keep him from ordering one
at every little soda fountain or ice cream shop he encounters, hoping that this time, it will be the one.
Myself, I’d like to go back to the day we took a field trip to my nursery
school teacher’s house and made cupcakes so I can ask for the recipe.
I don’t remember anything from that year but I remember those cupcakes.
I feel all of us have a place or time in life that we long to return to,
but not as many are so lucky to have a place in the
woods that answers that need so completely.
In comparison to some, our cottaging years are few.
Only 15. But the memories and feelings connected to that place are
buried so deep that they are part of our chemical make up.
Last summer was the first time we were all back there together
since the ongoing renovation of the previous years.
And while it was completely different, it was also exactly the same.
Wood got chopped, fires built, books read, lines cast,
naps got taken, feet were always dirty, bellies were always full.
Some projects were even attempted and executed.
The hours were unhurried and idle, time was elastic and
we connected again, our past to our current selves.
And it was good.
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