The Dock.

My room comes with a view of the Mountain and lake, but this morning is gray, the clouds are low and it is only in my imagination that there is a beautiful mountain hiding in this blanket of fog.  The lake is apparent but as gray as the sky, so only provides a canvas for the dock that is floating about 50 feet from shore.  The kayaks lined up in front of the equipment shed and the grass they are sitting on provide the only color in front of me.  And so I imagine.  Soon the lakeside will be filled with screaming kids, splashing and jumping in.  I know, because I was one of those kids.  The New Hampshire lakes I swam in seemed to all have a dock.  That magical platform for jumping from, and pushing off, and engaging in false boxing matches with the loser falling over the edge…and on quiet days a place to sun my skin.  When my children were little, we rented a small cottage on a lake not far from our home for a week each summer, that was our vacation.  The dock was set in the water the first week of May and came back out of the lake to be stored for the winter sometime around Columbus Day.  We’d hardly pulled in the parking spot, no time to unpack, the kids already in their suits would yell, “Race you to the dock!”  And for the next several days, that one simple object provided a launching pad for fun.  One summer, my little brave Westie, Wally, would hitch a ride out to the dock on the paddle boat with the kids or me, day after day, jumping in and sometimes swimming the length back to shore.  He had the vacation of his dreams on the lake.  When we returned home, after a good night’s sleep, Wally could not get out of bed, barely able to walk.  At the vet’s office, after a little interrogation about Wally’s recent adventures, turns out jumping off the dock and swimming all week nearly did him in.  Next time, keep Wally close to shore, we were warned.  Today is Mother’s Day.   I don’t remember my mom ever going out to the dock.  She was more of a floater, though I know she spent many hours in the pool later in life to ease her arthritis.  She never stopped us kids from going.  And it’s odd that I don’t remember ever having swimming lessons.  It doesn’t make sense that we just knew how to kick and paddle and swim under water…but that’s all I can remember.  Mom was that way, she just knew I could do so many things, so she let me try.  She didn’t ever seem to be afraid I would fail.  The list is too long for examples, so I just consider the dock.  I thank you, mom, for all the docks in my life that you let me swim to, you encouraged me in every one.  You were always on the shore when I swam back with a dry towel.  I really miss you today.  I’ll stop by for a visit with some flowers before returning home.