White Benches and Shallow Lakes: Part 1

       Hey, I'm back from a pretty sweet weekend in Manchester Township, New Jersey. Every summer, the church folk go on an outing for a night or two to strengthen their fellowship with each other. For me, it was the chance for me to get away. It was my last chance to shed life's problems and bask, uninterrupted, under the sun before the beast that is school devours my time.
       As we pulled up, my eyes were set on auto-lock to one thing, the shoreline. Filled with white benches and inviting docks, the beach was just what I needed. I pictured myself lying down on a reclining bench under the shades of a tree either reading a book or watching the treeline till my eyelids get heavy. Right away, I realized that a different type of peace inhabited this place. It wasn't the manipulated peace that I receive when I enter the confines of my room but it was a stubborn kind of peace. You have no choice but to let it surround you when it wants to.
       My life seemed to be slowing down by the minute. No more running, it just turned into a slow pace. I started to observe those around me. I haven't seen my church members in a while, some of those who I grew up with almost seem unfamiliar. My work schedule coincided with church and it used to be a problem for me. Guilt usually weighed on me every Sunday I failed to show up but not anymore. I don't feel the same way about church as I once did, something has faded.
       But there I was, in this place where the winds were unpredictable and the thunder was roaring through the sky. However, there was no sign of rain. There was a sense of secrecy within this place. I didn't know what it was trying to hide from me and what I'll be leaving with.
       To my surprise, I met a good friend who I haven't seen in a long time. So much for a quiet trip. I've known her through the years but it seems as if our relationship hasn't changed much since we were kids. We still interact with each other the same way we did in the fourth grade. Through my Sunday School years, I believed that she was the smartest girl I knew. She wouldn't come some Sundays but I do remember being happy when she did. Now, she can't stop making fun of me. It's amusing actually.
        As we got further into the night, the darker and heavier clouds started to bully the worn out sun behind them. A campfire was lit, the marshmallow bag was ripped open, and the festivities started. I'll let you in on a small tradition that we do when standing around a campfire. The parents tending the campfire will actually cook with its flames. They place plantains and yams within the smoldering wood and set it there until they are warm and soft. All this is totally normal to us and I personally love it.
        The winds were unpredictable that night and there was a slight drizzle. They started to carry the smoke and vapor straight into my eyes causing them to sting and well up. Getting the point, I then walked toward the shoreline where I entered into a conversation of reminiscence and memories. Sometimes, to reignite latent friendships one has poke at memories that reside in the stuffing in your brain, somewhere in there. Pop the right one and you won't stop laughing until morning. A good laugh is all it takes to wake up a sleeping relationship.