Katherine Neely The House on the Lake

The House on the Lake

Katherine Neely

The trip was lengthy. As we turn the corner, I finally see Granddad and Nana’s house. The house is ordinary and extraordinary at the same time; the entire back wall has beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows giving the six bedroom a lovely, overlooking view of the lake. Then there is the den, where we spent most of our time. It is decorated with comfortable chairs, a coffee table with an assortment of magazines, and Nana’s wooden duck sculptures, plus a wood stove in the corner that keeps everything toasty warm.

I am filled with anticipation as I see the sunset shining through the trees gently draping over the sparkling water. The movement mesmerizes me as the fish and water bugs skim the lake’s surface. It had been months since we had come to visit. Eagerly walking towards the door, I am moments away from being embraced by Granddad’s firm squeeze and scratchy-bearded kiss. The memories start flooding in as we continue into the den. I remember climbing on Granddad’s lap when I was five years old; I recall the sweet smell of apples as he would read from the Clifford the Big Red Dog Scratch and Sniff. While we gathered around to watch television together, Nana and I would color my Strawberry Shortcake coloring book she had purchased for me. The background aroma of a wood-burning fireplace is soothing as I reminisce.

After hours of visiting, we are all exhausted. Mom and I cuddle under my favorite plush blanket as the familiar silky softness engulfs us. I can hear the rhythm of the ticking clock that hypnotizes me. Without realizing it, eventually, I fall fast asleep. The following morning, I wake to light peeping through the drapes. Opening the curtains, I see the breathtaking view through the vast wall of windows. Quickly I dress and step out to the kitchen, and see Granddad, as always, is watching the 9:00 AM news with his steaming cup of black coffee. Bacon sizzles: it smells fantastic. The smell of a charring toast begins to permeate the air, breakfast is almost ready. I run to Nana and ask if I can help with anything, but she always says no. I see the sizable spread that she spoils us with every time we visit. In addition to the bacon and the toast, there are eggs, grits with melted cheese, and I know that the big bowl of honeydew melon is especially for me. As we eat, the taste is so familiar; it tastes like home.

With breakfast now finished, we sit on the sun porch admiring the breathtaking scene of the leaves falling on this crisp fall morning. While watching the leaves fall, I remember another childhood memory. I think back to our summertime visits when we would often ride on Granddad’s paddleboat on the warm summer evenings. I turn around to see the room I stayed in when I was young; my mom and I laugh as I recall sneaking off and watching VHS movies. I hear the familiar sound of the landline ringing; my Aunt Donna and cousin Annabelle are on their way for the evening.

As dinner was being made, Annabelle and I recall more memories of how we used to build pillow forts and play with Barbie dolls when we were young. We giggle as we set the table. It is another fabulous meal with wonderful company. After clearing the table and washing the dishes, Annabelle and I begin to whip up some chocolate chip cookies, Granddad’s favorite. One quick finger lick of the sweet, delicious batter confirms the cookies will be delicious. We pop them in the hot oven; immediately the sweet smell permeates the whole house. As soon as we pull them out of the oven, we dig into the warm, gooey cookies with a tall, cold glass of milk.

With the evening winding down, we settle into our comfortable chairs. I gaze over and a sweet smile starts to spread on my face; I remember the hundreds of times that I would crawl up into Granddad’s lap, and he would play, “This Little Piggy” on my bare feet, as he would say, “This little pig went to the market, this little piggy stayed home.” A funny feeling of gratitude and sinking sadness occur simultaneously as I realize that our time together is over again. I know it is about time to walk out the door when Mom says, “Has everyone used the bathroom yet?” We share hugs and kisses all around, grab our things, and head to the car. Sending us off with waves, smiles, and lots of love, I see Granddad and Nana slowly disappear as we back down the driveway. Despite the long drive home, my heart cannot wait for the next visit.