Oh, gosh, yes. Definitely our summers at the lake. We used to pile into this old station wagon. The kids would be in the back with their snacks, asking if we were there yet before we’d even left town. And we had this cooler — the blue one, I think. The lid never closed properly, but somehow it always kept the ice.
The house wasn’t fancy. I mean, it really wasn’t. The screen door stuck, and you had to give it a little shove with your hip. Every year we’d say, right, we’re going to fix that. We never did. Funny, the things you remember.
In the mornings, I’d take my coffee out onto the porch. Sometimes I’d get ten minutes on my own. Not always! Then somebody would come looking for a towel, or asking where we’d put the fishing rods. And that would be the start of the day.
The kids spent hours in the water. We’d call them in, and they’d say, just five more minutes. You know how that goes. By dinner they’d be absolutely starving. There’d be wet towels over every chair, and someone always had a bit of sun on their nose.
What made it special? It was the time together, really. We weren’t trying to fit everything in. Just long days, good food, everyone round the table. I can still picture that table. It wasn’t fancy, but it was perfect.