We crossed the threshold of the sliding glass basement door, inhaled deeply, and let out a tandem “that smell!” kind of sigh. I’d say it’s a bit like pine mixed with dust and sunscreen. The pool table and crystal glasses atop the dusty bar were exactly as they were over a year ago. Upstairs, my grandparents and aunt were waiting, eager to share hugs after months and months of corona-induced distance.
My grandparents built The Cabin in the 70s, and I say you can tell in the most affectionate way possible. The cherry red carpet, dark wood, macrame accents and wooden ducks harken back to a time when my mother somehow rode around on the back of my grandpa’s motorcycle without a helmet and my Nana wore a swimsuit. Now the house is a family get-together spot for summer lake days and a retreat from snow tubing in the winter.
I climbed to the third floor “Jungle Room”—the third-story loft with three twin beds, tiger-print blankets, and safari hats and spears on the walls. On the main floor is a “Strawberry room” where my mom’s childhood bed and strawberry printed bedding have a permanent home. The ground floor, complete with pool and foosball tables, Coors signs, and a full bar comes as close to any bar I’ve seen, minus the people and actual alcohol. The main part of the house is the family room, and the theme is Cabin. Think brown wood-paneled walls, brown chairs and a brown sectional… basically, everything is brown, but stylish, and I’m in love with the place.
I checked the Jungle Room desk drawer for my sister’s (clearly) unsent letter to a friend from probably 2009. Still there, and still hilarious given that her promise of a daily report of events did not come to fruition (the events of day one are listed in detail while “Day 2” is a title and nothing more).
To be completely honest, I didn’t want to make the trip up this summer. A brand new class, plus prep work for the upcoming school year have been weighing on me, and I wasn’t exactly jumping at the opportunity to mix all of that with terrible WiFi. Still, I knew that this would be a good opportunity for my family to be a family. With Kenna heading back to Canada in a little over two weeks, me starting working full time, and the travel challenges Corona will inevitably create in the future, there was really no better time. Plus, I could read on the beach!
Time is passing more quickly than I remember it did as a child. Nana is 79, my sister is halfway through college, and despite the fact that it feels like it’s been five minutes since it began, my mom is nearly five years into her cancer journey. These nights of laughing over games of Apples to Apples and mornings watching romcoms like My Big Fat Greek Wedding over eggs and Keurig coffee are not guaranteed to come again, and I’m savoring them. My books, homework, and missing my sweet boyfriend as he backpacks in Big Sur are taking up space in my mind, but I’ve made an extra effort to be present in these moments that are not, and never were promised.
So, until Tuesday morning you can find me floating in the lake at Dunn Ct., or reading with Nana on the upstairs deck, or running the winding paths around the lake with Rooie, or playing pool downstairs with Grandpa. Grandpa and my dad had a blast (heh) at the shooting range this morning while we vegged out in front of the tv for a couple hours, and later on my mom took me to town to buy a dress for dinner because for once in my life, all this over-packer packed were my comfiest, rattiest gym shorts and some running shoes. I found a cute, black gauzy thing on a rack outside the only boutique in town, and it was only $19! Later on we had burgers and took sips of Nana’s (VERY salty) Bloody Mary at The PML Grill, which overlooks a lovely golf course.
What a gift it is that time does not stand still. I am famously not a fan of change, but I’ve learned that living wisely means expecting the changing of the seasons and walking in gratitude. So here’s to Grandpa playing 50’s hits while he and Nana make spaghetti in the kitchen. Here’s to bad WiFi and good conversations.
Here’s to savoring Summer’s end and all the blessings that come with it.
Kayley Chartier 