rocky point

Today I bid farewell to one of the places dearest to my heart, one of the places I’ve made more memories than anywhere else in my life. 

My grandparents bought their beautiful lodge-like lake home in Rocky Point when I was a toddler. We traveled to stay with them every chance we got, many times a year. We waited with anticipation for Grandpa Jerry to take us out in his fishing boat or for a stop at the resort for some gummy worms. We played games, watched movies, and performed our piano pieces to an always-encouraging audience. We helped make meals that became traditions, and learned to embroider on Grammy’s lap. 

As we grew older, Macaela and I were allowed to go out in the canoe on our own. We packed lunches and explored the lake and marshes for hours on end, naming locations and singing songs and finding shipwrecks and drawing maps when we got back to the house in the afternoon. Our imaginations ran wild at Rocky Point - how could they not when adventure was always right at our oar-tips? 

On rainy days, us girls snuggled up in the living room to watch all six hours of the A&E Pride and Prejudice, swooning over Mr. Darcy every time. On snowy days, Dad built sled courses down the neighbor’s hill, and we put on our own Rocky Point Olympics. On hot days, we had BLT’s and root beer floats on the deck for lunch. On any day, Grammy might sneak us a piece of chocolate cake with our breakfasts.

And as we grew into adults, we only grew to appreciate the beauty and tranquility of the lake house more and more. Every canoe trip was a gift, no matter how many bugs surrounded us. It was a place where we could put the rest of life on hold for a few days, spending our time cooking, eating, reading, piano-playing, movie-watching, domino-playing, canoeing, and enjoying each others’ company. 

I guess I should have known that someday they would have to leave the lake house, but I never really thought about it until the time had come. So we made our final trip this weekend, just Nate and I. And everywhere I walked, the memories were brimming up to overflowing. 

I’ll never forget learning to quilt in Grammy’s office, learning to mince in the kitchen, learning to fish on the dock. I’ll never forget the smell of the forest, the sparkle of the water, and the sound of the aspen leaves. I’ll never forget how there were always sodas in the garage, always gifts waiting for us on our pillows, always enough band-aids to cover all my mosquito bites, always Grammy’s signature tacos for dinner a night each trip. 

I was given a great gift as a child: a beautiful place to come and learn and grow. But the greatest gift was the ones whose care and generosity made the place what it was. While it’s hard to imagine Grammy and Grandpa Jerry in any other place, that place will bring many of these memories with it: the piano will come, the smell of Grandpa’s pipe will come, the Blue Willow dishes will come, the scottie dogs will come. And most importantly, that care and generosity will come wherever they go. 

Thank you, Rocky Point, for how you filled me up with lifelong memories. It’s surreal to say goodbye. But how grateful I am. How grateful I will always be.