Every year of my childhood and almost every year of my young adulthood, I have made the annual trek to Still Waters or as the American side of the family calls it "The Island". Everyone from my mother's side of the family comes. My grandparents, my mom's older brother and his family, her younger brother, and us. There were four of us kids, my brother and me as well as our cousins Alexander and Andrew.
We were all cut off from society for the duration of our stay. There is no indoor plumbing other than a kitchen sink, no heat other than a fireplace, no AC other than some fans, no cell, TV or internet either. It was a week to unplug. We would spend the week we were there in our bathing suits playing down at the boathouse both in and out of the water. At lunch, the grownups would bring down a picnic of hot dogs, mac and cheese, chips, and juice. We would pause to eat and then resume our play. Once it got dark, we would come inside and either play hours of monopoly or some other board game or read. Dinner was called by a huge cast iron bell and the adults would gather around the big table and us kids around a smaller table. Sometimes, we would all pile in the boat and take the two hour water ride to Port Carling where we would go through the locks.
I never was a fan of lake water. I don't like the bottom with all the squishy plants and slime covered logs, so as I got older and the water play took everyone out of the bay and further into the lake I started spending time up at the cottage reading. Another benefit of growing up was that I had more control over my snacking and I didn't have to be constantly asking for permission to eat some chips close to dinner time. At the same time, we became too big to pile into the small sailing motor boat to take long excursions onto Lake Joe. Lunch meals became less and less organized with everyone fending for themselves. Less time was spent at the boathouse and more time indoors, or in my cousin's case sunning himself on the big dock and turning into a beet.
The cottage began to shrink. Suddenly, all of us kids were no longer small, but full sized adults bringing significant others. Sleeping surfaces had always been scant and we began to spill out onto the floor. As the only girl in the family, I was fortunate enough to be given my own room. Several years ago a cell tower was built in range of the island and last year internet arrived, although we still have to pee in the woods.
Don't get me wrong, I still love the place, but it has lost some of its magic that I loved so much as a kid. I am torn between wanting to completely unplug and also wanting to keep connected with the world. This last trip my Mom wasn't able to come because of her new job. She was always in the water no matter how cold or cloudy it was and she was the only one to every be able to get me to get in the water and go swimming either to Bass Rock or around the island. So this year I didn't swim.
I think there are times in our lives where we suddenly realize that we are not longer children and that we have left that world for another. I think a lot of people experience this when they go home for the first time after they graduate from college and start first job. I know I felt this a couple of Christmas breaks, but it never felt so strong because I move around so much that I didn't have memories of my childhood in that house. This year however, I really felt the changes and it made me sad.
