palmerpink

I recently got to spend a few days at the lake house my family used to visit through most of my childhood; we no longer own it, and it turns out I missed it more deeply than I realized. Anthony and I both got the week before NYC Pride off this year, so I contrived to get us a little time there. The cousins who own Greenshore gave Anthony and me permission to relax there for several days rather than just the 1 or 2 I had expected. Good god, I'm grateful for that. I missed this place. Standing on the balcony, the porch, or the dock and looking out over the lake, I was reminded of the beauty and tranquility this lake represents for me. The meaning and memories, too. This was always a place of solace and stability for me. We moved around a lot when I was a kid, but we always came back to this place. It had been in our family for generations before I was even born—if we'd been able to keep it, it would have been a solid 4 generations including mine. This was where I figured ...

I feel less accomplished than I kinda expected to feel. Some of the chores weren't as doable as we'd hoped, and I spent less time writing/thinking than I'd hoped. But oddly I'm not exactly disappointed by it. It's nice just being here (how Hallmark....). But, seriously, I think I managed to get in some good relaxation time, and even if I haven't reached any ULTIMATE CONCLUSIONS on the things that've been on my mind, I've managed at least a bit of thinking I doubt I'd otherwise have found time/space for. I also got to spend some precious quality time with my grandmother; Lord, I love that lady :) It's nice to spend some time with her, one on one, and know she's doing well, yeh? Yeh :) Anyway, I'm strangely tired-ish again; I may rest some more. Fml, man; nothing 's gonna get done. But I may actually be okay with that....

I've been wanting to write a poem about this place--this lake, our house here--for the longest time. I thought of this title for it yesterday, when I arrived up the driveway and stood near the house and breathed the air, thinking, "Oh, this lake that never leaves". Because that's something I love most about it. Of all the moves and changes and (alleged) growing up over the years, this lake, this house, has always been right here. My mother and I realized that one perfect morning on the dock, at that mysterious hour before the wind picks up and the lake is flawlessly smooth. She pointed out how for both of us it's the only thing that's been constant in our lives; we've both come here yearly since we were born. A respite we can rely on; an anchoring place. I was getting worried that I wouldn't make it up here this year. I kept being detained by work or miscommunications with family. But I got here, and I am so happy I did. It's just about freezin...

So tomorrow I head up to Connecticut for the rest of the week. I'll be doing a good deal of chores--closing down the lakehouse for the season, painting and mending, and so forth--but I look forward to the time spent among the trees and the leaves, the wind and the cold. (Mind you, it's not normally that  cold when I visit, but I've never been up there this late in fall...and it's in the mountains...like, the highest mountain or something... it's in a cute town, though ....) Anyway, I love this place. My family's had a lakehouse up there since the 1930s; it's got this stolid, stonelike quality to it. Immovable. Of course it's really made of wood, and being 80 years old needs a bit of work now and then. Which is my excuse for going up this weekend, to do some work to fix it up a bit and close it down for the season. I'm excited. A bit of time to go clear my head and look at some nature and think, if I must, or write, if I can. Honestly, just...