Back to Vermont

This year, Vermont greeted us with silent lightening on the lake. When we pulled up to the cabin after 7 hours drive from New York, we immediately went down to the lake which was just starting to fall into the evening routine. The sun was still hovering low over the hills and its rays were doing a sparkly dance on the tiny waves that the breeze was making. The light was warm on the round cheeks of my daughters faces as we headed out in the paddle boat to see if we could find the loon.

When we left Brooklyn this morning I had a mysterious feeling of ambivalence. This is our fourth summer coming to the same spot and yet I found myself wondering why we were going. It was like I was one of the many people back home in LA who look confused when I tell them what our summer plans are. They could understand Cape Cod or Hawaii or Puerto Rico. But why Vermont?

After we finally broke out of the traffic vortex which happened much later into Connecticut than I expected and were on the road through New England I started to get more excited. The woods, the lake, the friends, the fun, the hikes, the canoes all started to come back in my mind. And when we passed the sign that said “Welcome to Vermont!” where we shared our stretch of road with only one other car for miles, and after we had visited the cooperative health food store where beautiful earthy young blonds with dreadlocks help you find things, the excitement started to build, This was Vermont.

After our first evening boat ride and pizza dinner and Ben and Jerry’s for dessert I gave the girls a bath. I left them alone for a minute and went outside because I thought I heard the loon calling. It was pitch black but it was definitely the loon so I walked down to the dock. The wind was gone. There was no movement except for the sound of the loon echoing across the lake punctuated by frogs clearing their throats and flashes of light in the corner. I couldn’t see any forks of electricity. And there was no sound, no thunder. No leaves rustling. Just the sound of the loon and the frogs, some distant voices laughing, very low rumblings that were so faint I wasn’t sure they existed outside of my imagination and the flashing of light, on and off.