The Lake

I’m not at the ocean yet. I decided to stay a few days at this lake. It’s actually pretty close to where Emily lives. I keep wondering if I’ll run into her while walking around here. I hope not. I wouldn’t know what to say. I hated that about college. It’s such a small community you are constantly running into people. I know a lot of people like that about college and small towns. Sometimes you just don’t want to talk to people though. More importantly, there are some people you never want to talk to. There was no one I hated or was on terrible terms with. That would have been fine. We would have just avoided each other, pretended not to see each other, not talked to each other. A handful of people just rubbed me the wrong way – especially M*** T. - but that’s fine too. You just exchange pleasantries and get over it. I always afraid of running into people that wanted to know how I was and what I was up to. There is a different between asking those as bland innocuous questions and actually expecting me to catch you up on my life. I didn’t begrudge them knowing, I just never knew how much or which details they actually wanted. I know it sounds silly and it’s probably my lack of social skills speaking. Usually I would lie. I could tell them I was just coming from the library but last time I ran into them I was just coming from the library and I don’t want it sound like I spend all my time in the library because I don’t and I want to give an accurate picture. That’s why I want to live in a city. I should have run away to the city. This lake isn’t bad though. There are a lot of people here but I’ve mostly been keeping to myself. Most of them are tourists. They come for water sports. They’re the type of folks who have a boat in their driveway even though they live miles from any water. I am completely out of place here. I’ve picked my way through the campsite a few times to use the showers and such. The grown ups pay me no mind. The kids sometimes stare, especially the ones on mountain bikes. Mostly I keep to myself. I set up a little place for myself on the far side of the lake. It’s sort of like in Hatchet except that motorboats chug by all day and you can smell the barbecues going at night. I’m actually that nobody has called into the ranger to report a strange dude hanging out on the far side of the lake. I have a friend who always “goes up to the lake” with his family over the summer. He’s really into wakeboarding. They have an RV and a boat and everything. I went with them once. It felt a lot like camping in the backyard. All the right trappings but none of the nature. We spent most of our time out on the lake. It was actually an artificial lake, part of California’s damn and reservoir system. But none of that matters because it’s raining. I’m wet, very wet. My clothes are entirely soaked through. Everything I own may as well have turned to water it’s so wet. I haven’t taken cover under a tree or anything. I’m sitting at the edge of the lake and just completely mesmerized by all the ripples the rain is making. There are no boats out of course. The campsite is probably miserable and muddy. I imagine everyone is huddled inside their RVs. At some point it’s so wet it doesn’t really matter if it gets any wetter. I feel like if I get up and try to move somewhere drier – which would be basically anywhere other than out here in the open – I’d suddenly notice how insanely wet I am, and this would cease to be quasi-romantic and magical and begin to be miserable and raggedy and just plain wet. I wish I was good at poetry. The rain on the water would make a beautiful haiku. Rain on the water / Ripples on the lake / Dripping wet. I’m smiling. I want to laugh. I want to laugh like a wild animal and maybe dance. There’s a frog sitting to my right. I can’t dance when people are looking at me; I’m too self conscious. I can dance when other people are around just not when they are looking looking at me. So if everyone is dancing it’s ok, not great, but I’ll dance, flail, jump, bounce around dance. There’s a haiku about a frog, a famous one, by Bashō.

Old pond
Frog jumps in
Plop.

I remember seeing a page with hundreds of different translations of that poem. Each one trying to capture the Japanese, which was just trying to capture a frog hopping nonchalantly into a pond. This frog is just sitting there, enjoying the rain with me.

And then it’s over.

And I’m still wet as a mop.

It’s like when a fireworks show is over. You linger because you don’t want to miss that one little afterthought even if it is unspectacular. I hear muted cheers from the campsite across the lake. It’s probably bad for me to stay this wet but there isn’t really anyway for me to get dry. So I’ll stay wet. I’ll go swimming. My clothes will dry faster if I hang them up and I’m wet anyway. I don’t even think about the fact that I’ll be skinny dipping until I’m standing in my underwear. For a flash I consider keeping it on but the thought doesn’t stay long enough to solidify. Even though I’ve been at this lake for a few days I haven’t gone swimming till now. The lake was the boaters and campers territories. But the rain drove them back for me! I forgot all about the frog. He (or she) is gone now, maybe swimming as well. I also forgot that I don’t really like swimming. The first house I lived in was near a pool. During the summer I would go swimming what felt like everyday. But then we moved and I never really swam much. Here and there, but I could never remember what was so fun about it. The sensation of being in the water just felt mildly unpleasant and there didn’t seem to be anything fun to do in the pool, definitely nothing that I couldn’t do equally well while staying perfectly dry. And then there were the one or two times that I ended up in a pool with a girlfriend. It never felt romantic or sexy or anything like that. It felt awkward, which might be some body issues on my part but I think the pool thing is all hype. I don’t think I’ve ever gone swimming alone. I might bet bored after a while but for right now it’s nice. I’m floating and feeling the water run through my toes. Closer to the shore I can stand. The bottom is pebbly and kinda hurts so I stay out in the water mostly.

I skinny dipped and no one saw me. I expected someone to see me and for me to be embarrassed, at least at first. Maybe I’d be brave and defiant and flaunt. But no one saw me which is disappointing but not so disappointing that I really care. My clothes dried faster than I expected. I still feel damp, as if the rain is somehow lingering in the air. Not just the rain but the whole atmosphere of rain. The RV people would likely disagree and disregard such silliness. A few of them are out for a quick boat ride before it gets too dark. A campfire would the perfect way to welcome the darkness and round up this day. Even if I had matches there is now way I could find any dry firewood after that rain. Now that I’ve thought about a fire I’m cold. Falling asleep cold is part of the deal I guess. It’ll make a good story when I tell about my travels. I might have to spice up the skinny dipping a bit. A mighty rainstorm – joyous carefree skinny dipping – then bitter cold at night. You’d almost think I was having an adventure out here in the virgin woods a whole mile away from anything resembling civilization, here all alone and stranded, by choice – nothing a good editor can’t fix. I wish the haiku I came up with was better, that would help solidify my romantic traveling poet persona. I have plenty of time to come up with something better. I don’t think I’ll be actually talking to anyone anytime soon. I can hear the RV people at their merry making across the lake. Happy sounds sound lonely from far away. I think I also hear a frog croaking but that could be my wishful imagination.

I’ll get back on the road again tomorrow. I’ve gotten everything I can out of this lake. That’s a crude way of thinking about it. I shouldn’t think that way. But I’m still leaving tomorrow. Yesterday, in the back of my mind, I was flirting with the idea of just staying here. I think some other part of my mind was worried that I actually would. I feel calmer now that I’ve decided that. I didn’t notice that I was tense but I feel more together and on top of things now. Maybe it’s not because it’s the right decision but just because I haven’t had to make plans or a decision lately and my mother’s OCD tendencies that have seeped into me over the years were rebelling. That almost makes me want to stay. To prove that I don’t have to be a slave to decisions. But staying won’t prove anything and besides I do want to get back on the road and see the ocean and just walk.