Lake Berryessa: a short story.

Lake Berryessa

As a young boy, my family loved to take me to lake Berryessa. I came from a wealthy city in India, which we moved away from when poverty because a giant issue. My father was able to get a job as a doctor in Napa Valley, and since the lake was so close, we began to go there every weekend we could. With my father's boat, we would find a small portion of the lake to float on, and blast our music along with grilling our food. We didn't need land to relax on, because the water was all we ever needed. It was our home, and a getaway; a secret paradise. When the boat would crowd, we all would start pushing ourselves in the water, feeling the cool wetness surround our bodies. Sometimes, we could feel the slight nibbling of small fish on our toes, which would make us scrunch our feet into little balls. When our food was ready, we would climb back onto our boat and dry ourselves, then grab the plate full of grilled vegetables with warm flavors, and a side of rice. I would often finish the whole plate in seconds, feeling the heat slide itself towards my stomach. When the sun came sinking down, so did our voices. Slight breezes would caress our skin, almost trancing us into a deep sleep. Birds would chirp and sing, saying farewell to the falling sun. After the sun would hide behind the curtains of mountains, my family and I would retreat to our home, and fall asleep in our soft beds, but not as easily then the comfort of our boat. Years later, I moved to the city of Boston. The relaxation of my father's boat compared to the constant moving of people in a city, would often make me want to take myself back there; the open arms of Lake Berryessa; my mother's soft kiss before her departure. The lake will always be apart of me, and sometimes I could hear Berryessa's voice speak to me through the water that glooms beside Boston. The words it speaks are soft and comforting, the same comfort I felt when the water of the lake surrounded me. "I'm here" she said. "I'm here".