the Lakefront...a story by me

This is a story I wrote - - - wanted to share.
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Maybe it’s the forbidden that makes us yearn for those things just out of our reach. Maybe it’s the forbidden that makes being close to those things so enticing.
Maybe it’s the forbidden that refreshes us, makes us new again.

I have no idea how the forbidden made it into my life. Or when. It is 10 o’clock in the morning, a Monday morning, and I have found myself driving through the turns of a wooded lake area. Towards the forbidden.

It’s amazing how simple it is. Appointments – with social workers, doctors, and homes, to try and take care of my grandmother. Untraceable. Unreachable. And completely innocent. Believable. Secluded lake house. Far enough to be anonymous. Close enough to go for the afternoon.

All of the thoughts are running through my head as I make the turns, edging closer and closer to the lake house. The conversations - taunting, teasing, and flirting. Some were so completely innocent, and others so completely forbidden. What are my expectations of this? Do I have the control to make this what I truly need and want? What are his expectations? What if they are different?

I feel completely safe with this. I know that he will respect whatever I want or don’t want to do. I don’t know that I feel safe with myself. Will I take things too far? Will he stop me from doing that?

The drive is unbelievable. Vermont at this time of year is an artist’s pallet of color. The trees are all turning, and it’s a perfectly clear crisp afternoon. Early autumn. Crisp, but not too cold. It’s a perfect day.

As I turn into the driveway of the Lake House, the scene is almost surreal. A beautiful lake, sandy beach, clear sky, and a strong breeze. The house is perfect. Wrap around deck, lots of windows.

I knock, but no one answers. Am I at the right place? I try the door, but it’s locked. I wish it was open. I would love to walk in quietly – to find him, unaware of my presence. I wonder what he’s doing? How long has he been here?

He comes to the door with that smile. That infectious smile. The perfect compliment to his intense, dark, eyes. All of a sudden, I realize I am very nervous. My mind is racing with thoughts – questions. Where is this going to go? Where do I want it to go? As he leads me into the kitchen – I can see the great expanse of the house. Oversized couch and chairs fill the living room, which is facing the windows overlooking the deck, the beach, and the lake. With the patio door open, there is an amazing breeze coming in off the lake, filling the house with the crisp, autumn, lake air. The open, airy feeling I would want if I had a house on a lake.

On the counter, he has some rustic bread with balsamic and olive oil. He sits across the counter, and I stand. It’s amazing to me how easy the conversation is. We laugh, we confide.

The conversation changes to the beach. After a tour of the house, he takes me down to the beach. The sand feels amazing on my feet, and the cool breeze is the perfect compliment to the sun beating down on us. We walk along the beach, not far, but enough to take it all in.

The afternoon continues, like an all day massage. The comfort of sitting on the overstuffed couch, chatting about our lives, our aspirations, and our fears. And then, sitting on the deck, feet up, taking in the fresh lake air. Being able to talk about anything that entered our hearts. Being able to be ourselves, with no limits.

Is this the forbidden? Is this wrong? Is this connection going too far?

As quickly as the day began, it is ending. The clock tells the truth, and it is time to go back to reality. To our families, our homes. Taking with us only the memories, the feelings of the afternoon. Hopefully those memories can carry us through, until the next time.