Summer at the Lake: a Labor Day Lament

Labor Day weekend always feels a little sad to me, because it either means back to school or the end of summer (or at least close). Because we now live near a public beach and lake, I get to be closer to the water than I ever have been and try to walk by it every day.

Walking by the water makes me think of a non-existent summer by the lake that I always wanted, growing up. We were in a suburb of Manhattan and my mom would drive us to Welch Lake every summer.

At the lake, I swam all day, my sister flirted with beach boys and my mother sat in a chair under an umbrella and watched the water. She was completely unathletic and it's only now I realize how boring it must have been for her. But she wanted us to swim and have fun, so brought us faithfully through the years.

Now I see children visiting grandparents, bare feet curling in sand. Boats tied up while the kids stand on paddle boards, balancing themselves expertly in ways I never learned to do. I think of my New York city characters and wonder what they would think of these lazy lake days. They'd wish they had them, like I do.

Summers on the lake would have the smell of those lakes; not salty fresh like the ocean, but a darker, more brackish smell that's not unpleasant. My husband's family cabin is up by Lake Superior, and it's always been too frigid for me, but we've gone swimming in rivers nearby, and that's been fun.

Lake summers need grilled meals and s'mores and live music, which my husband's family always has; we are often there over July 4 and sometimes Memorial Day, and once we went on Labor Day. The lake is beautiful in fall too, but when I'm around it, I always want it to be summer.

There is just something about summer air and water together that makes you feel so alive, and so calm at the same time. It whispers of shared secrets and secret loves, and a way out of the daily grind that promises so much more than it could ever deliver.

Labor Day means summer at the lake is going to come to an end soon. In the Upper Midwest it means cold and snow will come and stay far too long. So every day before then is a gift that needs to last as long as possible. And we have to dive in, I think, not stay on the shoreline.

We just have to dive in.