When I was young at the lake, the drive there was, metaphorically, the most painful thing ever. Eight-year-old me would impatiently watch the second hand on my iPad's digital clock slowly tick by, waiting for the four-hour drive to Canal Lake to be over. Every five minutes, I bothered my mom and dad in the front, asking them, “Mama, Baba, are we there yet?". When we finally arrived, my excitement did not falter. From the way the water would splash against the dock, trying to claw its way up, to the way the canoe was waiting for us where the lake met the shore, it all made me feel peaceful and drawn in. It invited my curiosity to take control. With that new sense flooding throughout my system, I would explore the land surrounding the lake with the utmost interest to discover something new. Little me would skip along the dusty, dried, compact trail, stopping every once in a while to crouch down and observe an interestingly shaped rock.

When I was young at the lake, I had the best time splashing my siblings, making s'mores around the fire, laughing with my family and newly made friends. I still remember the taste of the sticky s'mores. They were warm, gooey, and packed with chocolate, plus the crunchy Graham crackers. I still remember when I would come fresh out of the water, dripping wet, with my swimsuit and arm floaties clinging on to me. I would always rub thumb and index finger together, feeling the grooves and wrinkles the water had given me.

When I was young at the lake, I would do so much. I remember when my siblings and I would cannonball off the slippery, and smooth, and wet dock. In the murky water, we would swim for hours at a time. One memory that stood out for me was an anecdote my father told us when he had come swimming with us. He maintained how, within the water, there were tiny fish that would nibble the dead skin off my legs. I was astonished so I didn't enter the water for two days!

At the lake, I remember when we made a bonfire, just before sunset. We invited our new friends and prepared marshmallows to roast. At sunset, we watched the sun slowly fall into the trees on the opposite side of the lake. It was a magical moment, when the pale orange fading to pink sky reflected onto the water, making the entire area feel warm. Once the sun had said goodbye, and the moon had risen, we sat in a circle facing the fire and had a great time. Laughter hung in the air, as we made jokes and told stories to one another. I even remember how just before going to bed, we used this special powder called 'Magic Flame' to make the fire rainbow! We poured the powder into the dancing flames and watched them turn multicoloured.