Movie Reviews

Monday, August 22, 2011

White Benches and Shallow Lakes: Part 2

      After the night's lively campfire, I found myself spending the next four hours playing Bananagrams with the youth. Honestly, I wanted nothing to do with the game since I decided to leave my brain by the doorstep back home. But after helping a friend win his first game, I was forcibly thrown into the mix. We called it a night when our brains turned into mush and the wins were pretty much going to one person. Remember the old friend that I mentioned before? Yes her. That aside, I wanted to hit the sheets as early as I could to do some solitary venturing at the first signs of morning. I had half of this place scoped out and accumulated many photo ideas that I wanted to put into fruition.
       The idea to wake up early was pretty much a failure. These form fitting beds mixed with the fact that I was in a room all by my lonesome made the separation of my body and the mattress close to impossible. Do I dare say? This bed was more comfortable than my own bed at home. I decided to cut my losses and sleep in for the day. Later on in the day, I went to the shoreline where I found the perfect reclining bench and laid outstretched for a while. I didn't bring the iPod but it did give the winds a reason to rustle up a tune through the use of pine needles. There I was, without a care in the world, laying under the comforting shades of a native tree and slowly drifting off to sleep. Until a little friend of mine found me.
        We went rowing in one of the most shallowest lakes I have ever had privilege to step foot in. My oar kept on scraping the floor as I was paddling and I may have just unknowingly destroyed dozens of marine communities just by rocking the boat a particular way. We went further than everyone else and yet as the distance from the shore increased there wasn't much change in the depth.
         In the middle of the lake, there was an small island that was connected by an arched bridge from its right side. It was inviting enough to demand a visit from us. I mean, who would not go and check out the mysterious island? It would only require you to walk through a good two miles or so of forest with the theme of the Chainsaw Massacre playing in the back of your mind. There were others waiting for their chance to use the canoe so we pulled the plug and headed back to land.
         After I satisfied my trigger finger with dozens of photos, I stopped to skip rocks with the the little children. I believe my highest number of skips was an impressive three. As you can tell, my touch is certainly as good as ever. I, accompanied by two friends, trekked back to the bridge that led to that small island. We faced winding paths, five legged spiders, and five inch dragonflies before we encountered a wooden lookout within the island. My two friends stayed on the bridge as I approached the structure to get a closer look. To my surprise, inhabiting this lookout were the etches and markings prior visitors wanted to leave behind for others to see. Their names, their dreams, and parting words of wisdom were all here around me. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to leave my name behind but I did leave some attempts. My keys were too blunt to make a sure indentation into the wood and could only chip away at the structure until  a  good chunk was missing from the support.
          Before we knew it the day was over and the night was pretty much spent enjoying each other's company. It was difficult to leave Manchester Township the following morning but life awaited us in the form of our friends, textbooks, and bosses. It beckoned us towards a life of unpredictability, hope, and simple joys. All of which, I believe, is not all that bad.

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