When I was young at the lake, I would sit on the edge of the dock kicking my feet around in the cold, mucky but yet beautiful lake. Sometimes when the time was right, I would splash into the lake getting everyone near me wet, but no one would care because we were at the lake. There would be days when the whole family would gather on that very same dock. We would hop on the boat and watch on the boat and watch are aunts and uncles wakeboard, and after that us kids were allowed to water ski and tube around the lake all day long. The tubing was the best part, all the flipping, flopping and skidding across the lake in that bright neon tube.

When I was young at the lake, we would fall all over the place with our freshly sharpened skates and nice new hockey sticks in our hands. In the winter, we would set up the hockey nets so that my siblings and I could body check each other into the nice powdery snow and get the golden goal in the last few minutes of the tournament. We would slice through the icy lake and watch it glitter, shimmer and shine. We would walk around and push each other all over the lake and would get a few big bruises doing so because we were at the lake.

When I was young at the lake, We would throw mud at each other's faces and not care that we were covered in the sticky, thick and soft Mud. After getting out of the lake, we would get something called “The Itchies” and we thought they were caused by the mud, but to this day no one knows what caused them. “The Itchies” felt like a rash that hurt like scrapes and was a massive clump of big red bumps scattered across my body. They felt like jelly fish stings but somehow worse. After all, the itchiness, pain and disgust didn't really matter because we had fun at the lake.

As the day comes to an end, and the night starts to appear, we start getting ready for dinner after a long day at the lake. We watch the sun set, all along the lake looking more stunning than anything I have ever seen. As we would come outside again to roast marshmallows. I remember staring at the ashes of the fire hitting the lake and slowly disintegrating, in the calm, beautiful, and soft lake. “I hope to come back soon”, is what I was saying to my relatives as they wished me goodbye and as I was leaving, all I could do was stare at the lake and wonder why I was one of the lucky ones who could come to this lake.
The end!