I remember those days on the lake. The short waves, the lanky trees in the distance, the soft whistle of the trains as they passed through the town nearby, the cool breeze that came from the north that cooled the area to a comfortable sixty degrees, and the bald white head of Mount Rainier poking out between a saddle valley. You used to remind me of when you were young and gleeful and a lake like the one i am on . Except it was crowded with people as it was a popular swimming and fishing hole just south of the town in which you grew up.

Man how you used to tell me crazy stories about that lake. Like when one of the boys shouted “race” and you all raced around the swimming hole and the fastest one would have whatever ice cream flavor you wanted from those who lost. You lost once or twice , if I remember right and you had to buy the winner, Dave rocky road a few times. You would also go on about the one about your friend Steve who shouts one day “look i got one,” but instead of hooking a fish he hooked himself a young women that soon became his bride. And when a Bald Eagle came down and snatched a dead fish 5 feet away from your dinghy while the national anthem came on over the radio. Oh how you loved  to talk about that lake.

This lake also brought you memories too. You took me here when I was younger, you remember right?  Well I remember the fish we would catch and take home the large trout that had lived in that lake for centuries. They were brown and tasty and always full of bones. You taught me how to catch them. You used to say that some sort of oil you would use that  would work the best as bait, and they would almost jump into our boat. That lake was cold enough to freeze your bones sometimes, but the mineral filled water was a good cleaning source for the slightly frozen fish we would leave out on ringers.

That was not even all of what was at that lake, there were fishing buddies like Turtle who ran around like he owned the place on his little scooter and Smith who always had the parties on his boat and was the rowdiest. You would always tell Smith “I'm not having a beer tonight i have to take care of my grandson so get that bottle away from me,” and he’d go on about how you’re no fun no more and you both would end up laughing at the end of it. I guess you must miss those days too. They were your friend not mine. They came from the war that you had fought and were treated all the same.

I guess I should love this one the same way but  it’s not the same now going back ten years later. The lanky trees are all but long gone due to a large logging boom. The waves are now large and treacherous as the wind blows from the south not the north warming the air into an uncomfortable eighty degrees fahrenheit. The trains have stopped as the town you once called a little home away from home is now just a tourist stop before Rainier. And the bald head of the mountain now only half of what it was and almost completely brown.

Oh how I now miss the days when we would go fishing and watch the trout jump up and down. The songbirds ever singing in the warm summer heat and the cool breeze that walked over the lake. How i wish i could remember the one thing i miss most out of this picture.

  You.