I took Brandon to my family's lake house two weekends ago. It was dream to have the opportunity to bring someone I love so much to a place I've always loved. This entry is about that weekend, including some of my favorite snaps. He took a lot of photos of me, which is both exciting and weird since I am always so used to being the one on the other side of the camera. It was a magical weekend, and we are joyous that this weekend was the very first of many lifelong excursions to the lake.
FRIDAY:
He picked me up at 6:15 PM, lime green kayak on top, and he kissed me and told me how excited he was for the weekend at one of my favorite places in the world. It was golden hour as we rode through the farmlands and groves of central Missouri. His arms and his face and the trees and fields veiled with coral light, I took mental snapshots (and real snapshots).
We arrived at the lake house around 8 PM and immediately we were tasked with corralling and capturing a giant horse fly we let into the house. My grandparents gave commentary as I swatted dust into the air each time my net (yes, a net. Grandmas have everything) landed on the lamp the fly was taking refuge in. Finally, we managed to catch the thing and release it into the wild where it came. Then I introduced Brandon to my grandparents. It was a wonderful first impression, I'm sure.After a tour of the house, dinner, and visiting, we decided to begin a jigsaw puzzle at the table. Brandon and I have already decided that we will one day own a puzzle table. Also perfect for board games. And we're going to do puzzles together this winter. We're already old people, and I am totally ecstatic about this.
An hour in, our eyes got sleepy, so we went outside and laid on the porch, watching the cotton ball clouds move across the speckled sky. We noted the reddish lightning from afar, and in the morning my grandmother told us it was heat lightning.
At 11 PM, we treaded upstairs and laid in the bed I grew up sleeping in when I visited my grandparents. A smile moved across my face in the summer darkness. I closed my eyes.
SATURDAY:
We woke at 8 AM and got dressed, before taking inventory of our combined camera equipment for the day. Brandon retrieved the fish-eye lens from my camera bag and excitedly attached it to the front of his DSLR. He photographed me looking goofy, but he tells me now that "that's the smile I love so much." I don't understand it, but I believe him.
We made our way downstairs where my grandparents greeted us and served breakfast. Grandpa had discovered our jigsaw puzzle and made headway on it, looking up from his glasses he said, "You left your puzzle out! I hope you don't mind..." We told him it was perfectly alright, and B, Grandma, and I moved our coffee and breakfasts to the back porch.
The day was beautiful and already hot. I thought of all three hundred times that I listened to the boats crossing the water in the distance, how many times I played at this house, my little self looking out the window onto this porch as I considered how to properly build my tent under the kitchen table. And how lucky I was to have the love of my life next to me drinking coffee, next to all the history of that house, good and bad.
We spent the morning on the porch, visiting with my grandmother. She got to know Brandon a good amount, and it felt as though it wasn't the first time they were meeting. It was as if we were just down to see them for the weekend, as we had done many times before. Brandon later wrapped up this memory with my grandmother as a highlight of our trip.
We spent the morning on the porch, visiting with my grandmother. She got to know Brandon a good amount, and it felt as though it wasn't the first time they were meeting. It was as if we were just down to see them for the weekend, as we had done many times before. Brandon later wrapped up this memory with my grandmother as a highlight of our trip.
Finally we left to town. The drive is winding and lined with trees, farms, and lake house cabins. It occurred to me how many times I had driven those roads, disregarding the true happiness those sights brought to me. It wasn't until that particular drive, watching Brandon's face become delighted in the rolling hills, thick forests, and streaming legs of the reservoir...it wasn't until then that I felt my own elation being echoed by his voice and his smile.
We made it to the Visitor's Center, and while I felt self-conscious about whether or not he'd think it was worth it, he smiled and excitedly pointed out the things he saw. We found a map in the entrance and I related our location to the house. Unbeknownst to me, he snapped a photo of this.
The Visitor's Center is a few things. It is much more a museum than anything. The region's history lines the walls of the cylindrical room, which leads upwards to an observation deck jutting out of the cliffside and over the water. The view of the Truman Dam, which divides the body of water into two, is in full view from the deck, along with the boat-dock studded Ozarks.
The cylindrical room is encapsulated by a large dome roof, and centered with replications of mammoth and prehistoric bones found common to the area. Pretty neat!
Following the Visitor's Center, we drove back roads into town and parked along the street. Brandon bought us iced coffees, and we began our hike down the antique shop-lined main street.
We made it to the Visitor's Center, and while I felt self-conscious about whether or not he'd think it was worth it, he smiled and excitedly pointed out the things he saw. We found a map in the entrance and I related our location to the house. Unbeknownst to me, he snapped a photo of this.
The Visitor's Center is a few things. It is much more a museum than anything. The region's history lines the walls of the cylindrical room, which leads upwards to an observation deck jutting out of the cliffside and over the water. The view of the Truman Dam, which divides the body of water into two, is in full view from the deck, along with the boat-dock studded Ozarks.
The cylindrical room is encapsulated by a large dome roof, and centered with replications of mammoth and prehistoric bones found common to the area. Pretty neat!
Following the Visitor's Center, we drove back roads into town and parked along the street. Brandon bought us iced coffees, and we began our hike down the antique shop-lined main street.
Within seconds of entering our first antique store, we were caught by the door, chattering on about the excitement of being at an antique store together. We're both huge dorks. We turned the corner eventually and the clerk met us with, "I thought you guys were never going to make it from the front door!" We told him we were just excited to be there, and perused the building Coming away with our goods: I found a metal decorated box, while he found two metal speckled cups in red. Continuing down the street, we found more shops with more stuff. Brandon found more specked dishes in green, and I found books and dinosaur toys for Samuel, along with some records.
I told Brandon of the last time I came there. It was April and I was there with Lindsey, and we tried to get tattoos at the tattoo shop. The outside looked normal and professional for tattoo shop standards. However, upon entering we were met with a 50-something year old man, sitting on his couch, watching TV with an e-cig in his hand. He looked at us like we just entered his house...which it definitely seemed like we did. Three cats greeted our feet, and the carpet looked to be about thirty years old. We asked him if he had a sheet of $50 tattoos and he must have thought that was the most confusing question in the world. Finally he showed us books of his "work". We skimmed through the pages of tattoos, all of which looked like a cross between the worst tattoos of your local water park and the neon spray-painted t-shirts you buy at said water parks. But with Looney Toons and Winnie the Pooh characters. We thanked him and left.
Brandon laughed at this story and asked if we should go get a tattoo for memories. No. Just no.
After purchasing some picnic foods and sandwiches from Walmart, we headed back to the house exhausted (it was that post-antiquing fatigue). Upon arriving at the house, we ate our sandwiches, drank some coffee, and decided it best to head to the Point to swim.
After purchasing some picnic foods and sandwiches from Walmart, we headed back to the house exhausted (it was that post-antiquing fatigue). Upon arriving at the house, we ate our sandwiches, drank some coffee, and decided it best to head to the Point to swim.
"The Point" is what my family has always called the end of the road where the water and cliffs meet. It is used to put boats in the water, to swim, to hang out, etc. Preteen Kaleigh and her childhood lake friend have had lengthy wonderings on these very cliffs about whether or not we supposed someone has killed themselves by jumping off of them before. Adult Kaleigh says, not unless they jumped head-first. And also, stop listening to exclusively depressing music.
B and I arrived just as golden hour was beginning, and we walked along the rocky shore to a more quiet part away from other swimmers. Wading through the water, the warm and cold spots swirled around us as they do at the end of summer.
Brandon asked me if I thought he could swim to the nearest dead tree sticking out of the water. I said yes.
"What about to the other side of the cove?"
"Yes, but don't."
He swam the 200 feet to the dead tree, his slick body gleaming in the sunlight among the starry blue water. He reached out his hand and shook the tree, contemplating whether he could climb it without it breaking. He decided not to, and later he disclosed to me that he immediately swam back because he realized there are probably snakes inside the stump. I laughed at him, but realized that I hadn't considered such a thing before.
We swam until a giant horse fly (a curious theme for the weekend) buzzed us out of the water and our frustrations got the best of us.
Climbing the hills in my grandparents' golf cart, I took Brandon to another point to look at driftwood for a future project I want to do. We happily wandered the rocks, photographing and scrounging for pretty tokens on the ground. I prompted him to skip rocks along the waterline, and felt proud about my two-skip. Brandon hurled his rock across the pool and 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 times it skipped. I frowned and dropped my rock in defeat, to which he responded with words of encouragement. But it was too late. I existed as an amazed spectator from then on in our rock-skipping pursuits.
After dinner, we played frisbee in the yard and then settled in by the fire my grandpa built for us. It was dark, and I played a Spotify playlist I made specifically for the weekend. The Zombies filled the space around our fire, I won't forget the way you helped me up when I was down. And I won't forget the way you said 'Darling, I love you,' you give me faith to go on.
We made s'mores and talked about melancholy things. Our dualistic nature in the face of immense happiness is perplexing at times. But I have come to the conclusion that it must exist in order to properly appreciate and keep perspective of the present.
"What about to the other side of the cove?"
"Yes, but don't."
He swam the 200 feet to the dead tree, his slick body gleaming in the sunlight among the starry blue water. He reached out his hand and shook the tree, contemplating whether he could climb it without it breaking. He decided not to, and later he disclosed to me that he immediately swam back because he realized there are probably snakes inside the stump. I laughed at him, but realized that I hadn't considered such a thing before.
We swam until a giant horse fly (a curious theme for the weekend) buzzed us out of the water and our frustrations got the best of us.
Climbing the hills in my grandparents' golf cart, I took Brandon to another point to look at driftwood for a future project I want to do. We happily wandered the rocks, photographing and scrounging for pretty tokens on the ground. I prompted him to skip rocks along the waterline, and felt proud about my two-skip. Brandon hurled his rock across the pool and 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 times it skipped. I frowned and dropped my rock in defeat, to which he responded with words of encouragement. But it was too late. I existed as an amazed spectator from then on in our rock-skipping pursuits.
After dinner, we played frisbee in the yard and then settled in by the fire my grandpa built for us. It was dark, and I played a Spotify playlist I made specifically for the weekend. The Zombies filled the space around our fire, I won't forget the way you helped me up when I was down. And I won't forget the way you said 'Darling, I love you,' you give me faith to go on. We made s'mores and talked about melancholy things. Our dualistic nature in the face of immense happiness is perplexing at times. But I have come to the conclusion that it must exist in order to properly appreciate and keep perspective of the present.
This mood followed us to the Point, arm in arm in the darkness, anticipating animals or monsters to jump out from the abyss of the trees along the road. We reached the cliffside and laid down our blanket before our bodies, and we gazed at the stars above.
"I think that one's a planet." I pointed to the biggest speck flitting red and white.
"Is it?"
"I 'unno. Let me look it up." I quickly downloaded a stargazing app which told me it was a 7.1 billion year old red giant called Arcturus. "Oh."
"Is it?"
"I 'unno. Let me look it up." I quickly downloaded a stargazing app which told me it was a 7.1 billion year old red giant called Arcturus. "Oh."
We sleepily gazed and pondered the normal things one ponders while stargazing. "Do you believe in aliens?" "Isn't it weird that we're looking into the past?" "What do you think that thing is?" "Do you think there's a space station up there?" "Whoa, did you see that?" "I mean, technically it is unidentified..." "Did you make a wish?"
We stayed out there contemplating, talking, laughing, and in awe of each other and the universe at our feet until nearly 3 AM. When finally, we made the journey back up the rocky hill, to the house, up the stairs, and into bed.
SUNDAY:
I woke up at 8 AM and let Brandon sleep in until 9:30 AM. The morning sun heated up the yard in the way it had in mid-summer. It was as if the weather changed just for us to enjoy a taste of summer together at the lake before fall comes.
We ate breakfast and spent the morning talking with my grandparents about family and the ways in which we each perceive ourselves and our truths.
Afterwards, we forced ourselves into action as we approached noon. Our kayaking excursion could not wait any longer. We dressed and gathered our picnic, before retrieving a kayak for me, lent by a neighbor down the road.
Placing the boats in the lake, I considered what a new experience this was for someone who had experienced this lake a thousand times before. I had been on boats, fishing boats, pontoons, etc. But never a kayak. This was my first time kayaking, ever.
I settled into my seat and Brandon pushed me out before hopping in his own. The waters were somewhat choppy and difficult to navigate with such a poor upper-body strength. I made a mental note to begin toning my arms as soon as I got home.
The original goal was to make it to a small chain of islands about two miles away, just near the dam. I imagined our picnic like Sam and Suzy, dancing around our picnic site to 1960s Brit pop, and loving each other the way best friends do when they're destined to be lovers.
We settled for a sandy cove just a half a mile from the point, parked our kayaks, and unpacked our picnic. Salami and pepper jack cheese sandwiches, dark red cherries, mixed snacks, and a squashed cherry pie dessert in a plastic baggy. I frowned at the squashed dessert. "Oops." I said.
"I thought that might happen." said Brandon. "But that's okay! We have other things."
We ate our lunch and inhaled the lake breeze, feeling the sun burning our backs and our faces. We knew full well the toll we would pay later for not putting on sunscreen, but it was too late now and we accepted our fates.
I stood and began looking for "special rocks" as little Kaleigh would call them. They're just rocks that look cool. I told Brandon we could find some and put them on a shelf in our future house. A Museum of Kaleigh and Brandon shelf. He was very enthusiastic about this idea, and we immediately began searching.After fifteen minutes of combing the shoreline, we reconvened with our discoveries: three misshapen sedimentary rocks, broken into a half, exposing layers and striations of gray and brown. We decided these were best and placed them in the kayaks.
"Should we head back?"
"I guess..." I sighed, and we headed back towards the Point.
We laid on the living room floor at the house, burned and exhausted. I looked over at Brandon who was laying on his back, petting my grandparents' shitzu Chico. The dog licked his face and acted like he had never known such affection and kindness.I closed my eyes and the people talking on TV began to blur into my consciousness. I slipped away.
"What time are you leaving?" My grandmother's voice yanked me out of sleep.
"Now." I said, remembering the two-hour drive back.
We gathered our things, loaded the car, said our thank yous and goodbyes before driving back down the gravel road out of the neighborhood.
I looked over at B who was blinking his tired eyes as he drove. I longed to sleep, but I was sure he did too, so we were in this together.
"Do you want to play a game?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Okay, so this is my favorite road trip game. My family and I would play it on trips when I was a kid. So you choose a category, we'll say...animals. And you start with the letter A. So the first person says, "A is for..." and then they choose an animal that begins with A. Then it's the other person's turn and they say, "A is for____. B is for..." and they say an animal that begins with B. And you continue all the way to Z. But always having to repeat the animals that came before. Sound good?"
"Yes." Brandon laughed and began. "A is for...ape."
"Ape is a kind of animal...not a specific one."
"But it's still an animal."
"Okay! A is for ape. B is for baboon."And on we went for the a large portion of the drive. It was tedious at times, but it kept us awake. I laughed at Brandon's animal choices, while he laughed at the way I pronounced "lemur".
Arriving back at my house at 6 PM, we hugged and tried to conjure words to close our weekend properly, but as always nothing particularly memorable could be formed. There was "I had a great time with you" and "I love you". But nothing could capture the truth that our hearts were full, and we knew we had just lived a daydream with the love of our lives.
The best strategy I have found in saying goodbye is to just tear ourselves away, lest we sit there attempting to work up to a strength to part that would never come. He kissed my face and told me he loved me, before I said goodbye and got out of the car with my things and trekked up the driveway and into the house.
I met my son with affection at the door. His bright, friendly blue eyes greeted me with glee, and he chattered hello, laying his head on my shoulder as he has begun to do when he has missed me. I rested my face on his blonde hair and inhaled, trying to remember what it smelled like when he was a newborn. We "talked" and I imagined he was telling me about his weekend, though nothing is very clear with a ten month old.
Suddenly I thought to turn to the window. Perhaps I would see Brandon, still sitting there in the driveway. He would be in his car, grinning at me and watching with his sweet eyes. A visual separation of my two lives and my two loves.
But I looked back, and the driveway was empty. He had gone home.
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