I am happiest and most content in life when I am in a lake. Throughout out my childhood, my maternal grandparents owned a bungalow in Dutchess County in a gated community centered around Sylvan Lake. The bungalow was sold and my grandparents have long passed, but my memories have remained vivid.
The bungalow was approximately the size of a standard one bedroom apartment. Its structure was connected with another bungalow next to it. To enter, one had to drive up the rocky road (it was only paved for a quarter of a mile before the hill escalated) and park in front of the white bungalow with number 44 painted in gold on the far side.
There were red wooden steps located on the side of the bungalow that led to a screened porch. Four screen windows that were half the length of the entire wall looked out onto a grassy hill that I always ran down to the lake. The porch had old wooden chests full of towels that smelled liked dried seaweed. In fact, the entire bungalow smelled like the lake all of the time, and it was wonderful.
The porch also held a wooden table that hosted many exhilarating Scrabble games. There was also a brown couch and a wooden rocking chair that had green cushions with little, colonial, English soldiers on them. My maternal grandfather was English and carved the wood for that chair himself.
All of the rooms in the bungalow followed a straight line design.
The porch led to the narrow kitchen. The kitchen was nothing more than a hallway with a heating plate, a sink and small refrigerator nestled in the corner. Adjoining to the kitchen was a single bathroom that held a standing shower and stain glass windows facing the porch. (They were not transparent.)
The kitchen led to the living room. The living room consisted of two beds placed in both corners of the room. They were green leopard print and matched the green carpet. However, somehow the room was impressive looking.
Finally, the bedroom was at the farthest end of the bungalow. It was orange. However, my grandmother made that room look good too. The beds had red and orange comforters with leaf prints on them. The closet consisted of a bar with six hangers and an orange curtain over it.
When I visited, no less than five people stayed at this bungalow at any given time. We always made my father sleep on the porch, while the rest of us took the beds in the latter rooms.
There were many wonderful memories that took place in that bungalow. This is probably one of the reasons why I associate lakes with such positive, happy feelings. I have never been happier than when I was in that bungalow. I’d give almost anything to experience those feelings and feel that alive again.
