Laurel-winchester
When I close my eyes and picture summer, I can smell lake water, sunscreen, and boat exhaust.
I can hear the sound of a reel casting, the splash of a fish, his laugh, and the camper jacks creaking.
I will always see their smiles in the setting Oklahoma sunset.
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As soon as the jacks hit the ground and the campers were secure, we left the rest behind to be put up when we got back, because we didn't want to waste a second of time together, every moment could be a memory.
From the lake or from the woods. Old treehouses our parents had crafted us long ago, or long tube rides on the lake that left us water logged and exhausted by dinnertime, the parents ready for corn-hole or horse shoes as soon as we got back from our adventures, out on the lake, or down by the riverbed.
The nights with the Wall's, Stacey and Matt, her younger brother Jason and older brother Derek, their kids and Granny and Pawpaw.
It's the memories with them, the weeks with them, the summer's and autumn's with them, it was when life felt real. But the rest of the year, when we all went back to our homes, it was like playing pretend.
Because where they weren't, I didn't want to be.