December 6, 2008
When I was a child my father bought a lake place not far from where we lived. My sisters and I loved this place. My mother was alive then. She didn’t like it there, and when we were teenagers we’d drive out on our own. We painted it bright colors inside and used contact paper accents. We played scrabble by the hour when it rained. At night, when the moon was high, we’d drag out the white wooden raft that sat atop floatation barrels. We’d swim off of it, and haul ourselves up into the moonlight using the rickety ladder.