Lake Day

It was a summer day in Texas. A few clouds lazily floated across the giant blue sky. The heat was immense — Texas summers never did mess around. We loaded up the car and slowly drove to the west. Songs played that reminded us of our youth. A sense of unsureness hung in the air, uncertain that the day would be what we all needed it to become. The dogs panted and waited restlessly in the car. They looked excitedly at all the sights and smells they had never experienced. We pulled into a beer barn and ordered a twelve pack and some ice for our cooler. Everything was set. The sun kept rising, making the day more unbearably hot and dry. That was what we wanted. We were going to the

Lake

.

This is one of my fondest memories. One of the days that you can replay in your mind with great adoration. I don’t want this blog post to be a lamentation of “I wish this was every day” or “I miss this.” That’s not the point. If it were every day it would lose the importance of the moment and become rote. If I missed it, then I would be a fool lingering for things that are long in the past. It was a day where everything lined up. Everything worked. I might be over embellishing it; my memories are 80% fiction. I don’t think that matters. The present is never here. Everything is just a manifestation of your mind. This is my recollection of a day I loved.

The drive to the public swimming area of our lake is only fifteen minutes long. You hit a dirt road and drive past the dam. The dam is where we take people when they first come to Breckenridge. It’s a huge dirt wall. Climbing up its almost vertical face is quite an undertaking. The challenge rewards you with a nice view of the lake at the top. We drove past that to the “beach.” That word is a stretch considering it’s just broken glass and rocks. When we got there it was empty. Asa let the dogs out of the car and they began smelling everything they could. We set up a little area for the boom box we brought. I cracked open a beer and tested out the water. It was cold but not unbearable. With the day only heating up, we knew it would just get better and better. Asa, Rachel, and I slowly waded further into the murky, cold water. At this point Ranger was about a year old and Crosby was still a little puppy. Ranger would swim if you made her, but she really loves chasing at the tide and catching sticks you toss. Crosby just slapped at the water with his paws and whined if you went too far away from him.

We listened to the music, felt the sun feed our cells, and enjoyed watching the playfulness of two puppies experiencing new things. Hours flew by and cheerful conversations were had. Ranger and Crosby kept trying to swim and play on the water. I have trouble expressing my feelings about Asa and Rachel. When I am with them I feel alone. Nothing I do is embarrassing. I never have to second guess anything around them. We are just longtime friends who love each other. After a few hours the dogs were worn out; we packed up and took them home. After much needed food, we fetched some floating devices so that true floating relaxation could be had. Back to the lake we went, sans the dogs. During the afternoon an old lady brought her iguana and let it swim around for a while. That was the only contact we had with the outside world that day: one bizarre encounter. Apart from that, the lake was ours. It was odd: the many times I had been here, people came and went constantly. This, however, was our day.

After swimming we explored the dam and went home. That’s all. That’s all the day was: nothing extreme or extravagant. It was simply true friends relaxing on a day where no one bothered us. We were allowed to float and talk and exist with nothing to weigh us down. Everything worked. The only plan at the outset of the day was to take the dogs to the lake for a bit. It took all of 10 seconds to plan. I often feel like things get over planned and forced to happen. On this day we will do this and it will be so. From Fancy Day I know that sometimes you must plan things out like that. I like to keep in mind, though, that simple days without the burden of thought can be just as fulfilling. You just need a place to be and people that you want to be with. No frills — just people and time.