From the Lake, with Love

It was a pretty normal day for you and me. I’d come down from the city, and we’d gone to the lake – your lake – for a summer swim.

I say your lake as you’d been talking it up for a while – your meditative swims out into its center, lying on your back and gazing at the sky, the surrounding scenery melting away – so it felt special, like you were sharing something intimate and close with me.

And oh, how I remember relishing the intimacy you doled out, however small! It made me feel justified in all the countless hours I’d spent attempting to make myself the most important person in your life.

Thus I was chagrined to be disappointed by the lake.

For one, it was slightly murky, with a cement car ramp leading down from the parking lot into its depths. Yes, it was surrounded by trees, but they were interspersed with large suburban homes, the kind of houses with residents who closely watched swimmers to make sure they didn’t get too close to their property.

It was a far cry from the pristine lakes of Maine where I grew up. I was spoiled by their unblemished perfection.

But nonetheless, I accepted this gift: you were bringing me to a place that you loved, and that was enough.

So I followed you dutifully, faithfully, as we stripped off our outer clothes and locked them in the car, walking barefoot several hundred feet down the rough cement to the lake’s edge. you dove in enthusiastically, and I — after carefully scanning the water for weeds — waded in after you. At the point where the coolness of the lake touched my belly, the boat ramp ended, and – not wanting to touch the mushy bottom – I dove fully in.

As soon as my feet left the solid ground, the lake fully holding me weightless, I understood the appeal. The water felt different than it looked: whereas to the eye it looked brackish, the moment I was away from the shore, it was cool and clear.

This felt like water I knew, and as we swam to the center, something I’d been holding onto — some kind of tight knot within me — began to loosen. The center felt entirely different from the shore.

I could breathe here. I could stay. It felt…safe.

As I floated, the noise of the outer world disappeared, the houses faded from sight, and it was only us, aloft in deep water, quiet and calm.

The lake was holding us in a loving embrace, and all was well in the world.

We stayed like that for quite some time, floating quietly, with the occasional comment in muted tones. It was lovely, and I never wanted to leave.

You — being the less buoyant of the two of us — tired before I did, and began to slowly make your way back to shore.

But I lingered.

There was something here for me, a message I couldn’t quite grasp. I thought perhaps if I stayed out just a little longer, it would come. But after several minutes passed and no deeper meaning had revealed itself, I too headed back, picking up my pace to catch up.

All in all, it had been a perfect afternoon.

So it came as an unpleasant surprise when, after we dried off and put on our clothes, I discovered that the key I’d so carefully tucked into the upper section of my bathing suit – my car key! – was missing.

While it was dusk, it was still light enough for us to thoroughly retrace our every step in the desperate hope that the key had fallen out on land, though we both knew otherwise. As dusk deepened and light faded, we turned on phone flashlights and poured over every piece of the parking lot and the shallow water of the boat ramp, hoping against hope that it had somehow slipped out prior to my swimming to the center.

By this time, the parking lot was empty save our two cars, and the fluorescent glow of a single streetlamp was flickering over the parking lot. I could feel your growing worry, mixed with frustration that I could be so careless. Normally, your agitation would have affected me deeply, and I’d have bought into it, feeding it with my own.

But this time something was different. This time, I felt strangely at peace.

While I recognized the inconvenience of losing the key (the spare was almost two hours away), it was not a dire situation. On the contrary, it guaranteed me an overnight at your place (even after three years, this was never a given), as well as spending time with you the following day when we drove up to fetch the spare.

All in all, I thought, it wasn’t so bad.

So for once I purposefully divorced myself from your thoughts, successfully tuning out your worry and anxiety.

Which is why, standing in the shadows next to the flickering streetlamp, I was able to hear the lake’s message.

Come back in the light.

It wasn’t spoken, exactly. It was more like the words were suddenly there in my mind. I looked at the streetlamp.

“Wait until daylight…?” I asked. I looked to the streetlamp for confirmation.

There was a flicker, a nod of acknowledgment. That was enough.

With certainty, I convinced a very reluctant you to call off the search and take us back to your place. Despite your misgivings, I felt buoyed by the moment I’d just had, feeling assured that the lake was guiding me – guiding us – to something deeper.

At your house, this certainty encircled me, thawing your defenses, and even though you insisted on researching local dealerships who could make a spare, you gave it up readily when I asked you to.

“Let’s just enjoy each other’s company tonight,” I suggested.

So we did.

For a three-year relationship, the simple act of enjoying one another shouldn’t have been such a novelty. But you and I were so tenuous in the best of times, the slightest breeze threatening to blow us apart. It was nothing short of miraculous that losing a key did not destroy the evening; on the contrary, it actually brought us together.

The following morning, we returned early to the lake. At my bidding, you stood by and watched – skepticism creasing lines in your face – as I peeled off my clothes and walked in.

The lake was still and silent in the dawn light, the birds singing happily, the sun penetrating deep into the water. As my toes touched its quiet coolness, everything faded away, and the lake and I were alone. I opened all my senses, feeling my aliveness, leaning into the knowing that seemed to rise from within me and her simultaneously.

This time, there were no words to guide me: I just knew.

I waded until the water covered my belly. A few strokes ahead, a glint of metal flashed below the surface.

Quick as a fox, I dove, emerging seconds later, key in hand.

I must have looked triumphant, for your face switched from skepticism to astonishment in an instant.

The lake was still holding me was I walked silently to my car, you watching breathlessly as I clicked the fob to unlock the car.

“Beep beep,” said the fob nonchalantly, oblivious to the importance of the moment.

The doors clicked, locks sliding open.

It was then that our eyes met, and something shifted between us. It felt as though a huge weight had lifted – an unknowable wound, now healed – with the click of those doors. In addition to my car, something else had just been unlocked — something within us.

It was a kind of long-forgotten joy.

“How did you do…that?” you asked. There was a new lightness to your voice. It sounded a lot like hope.

My mind buzzed with logical explanations, but none seemed adequate, so I opted for the truth.

“I think it was the lake.” I paused, feeling reluctant to speak it aloud. “It…she…was guiding me.”

There was a pause. I felt terribly vulnerable, like I’d revealed too much.

Then you gave a quick laugh – not your usual nervous one, but a kind of happy ah! Just one syllable that said, …of course it was! in an almost-joyful way.

It was my turn to be surprised. Perhaps the lake herself had convinced you to accept this explanation, but accept it you did. And with that acceptance, a kind of stillness descended upon us both.

You offered me your hand, and I took it. It was warm and strong, constant in a way that the rest of you so infrequently was. We stood there in reverent silence, your warm hand holding my cold one, arms touching, gazing at the light playing on the surface of the lake.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

A warmth enveloped my heart.

“The lake says you’re welcome,” I said, and I smiled, because I knew it to be true.