Today I took a drive to the places where, according to Gibran, my soul still hovers. When I was a child my family had a trailer over the summer months in a camp near Gimli. I took my parents back there today and I must admit that Gibran’s words make good sense to me. I loved my summer “home” where I discovered good friends, had childhood crushes, played Barbies for hours with the other girls, played baseball and “kick the can” with all the kids, told campfire stories, waved as the train zipped by, walked on the beach, climbed trees, picked wild roses, and did countless other things that helped to create my love of the outdoors, my passion for beauty, my fidelity to friends, and my respect for places and people who shape me.
I saw yet another side of my dad, the ex-farm boy, as he commented on the crops we drove along. He not only recognizes the crop, but he also could explain what the farmers had done to the fields and why. Two deers came leaping through those fields and made me brake so as not to run into them. It was an interesting ride on a variety of levels.
As I slowed down to turn right on Husavick Road, I smiled to myself remembering the first time I took that corner in a vehicle. I had no experience driving on the highway but I had been allowed to drive to the lake that particular weekend. No one told me that you cannot turn onto a gravel road at 100 clicks an hour. I have no idea why we did not all die that day, but we didn’t, thank goodness. This time I maneuvered the corner as someone who has 35 more years of driving experience and there was no fear of flying off the road.
As we drove down the still familiar road, there were some houses still standing and some new ones that changed the face of the area. The campground was totally different but the hall across the gravel road still stood. Most of the treed areas are gone. I continued down to the end of the road where the beach is. The Ukrainian Camp is gone, replaced by massive homes—they look too luxurious to be cottages. The path with the wild roses is also gone, now a wide-open space that leads to the beach. The rusted top of a vehicle is gone in that leveling. I did not hear the frogs that we used to chase as kids. The long stretch of sandy solitude that I used to enjoy now has beachfront homes that would be distracting. My spirit felt a little sad at the changes but it rejoiced at seeing the little sandbar that still juts out on the left.
Willow Creek was where my brother, dad, and male friends would go fishing. We could not see the bridge where they would fish from as we drove down the highway. Maybe it is no longer there. The creek seemed more like a bulrush pad than fishing pond.
We had also gone into one of the most popular stores in town and managed to run into someone I knew who is married to someone who knows my parents so that was interesting. My parents thought he was a very nice man and kept commenting on this as we drove to Winnipeg Beach which was our next destination. It was turning out to be a perfect day.
As kids, we would come here to play the arcade machines and pinball after having an ice cream cone. Today, we set Dad up in a lawn chair by the beach to give him a few minutes of quiet in the shade and headed off to get some ice cream ourselves. My mom was in exquisite form today, choosing a sugar-free maple walnut cone that she raved about. You have to understand that my mother is a very picky eater so you can imagine my great delight with having her satisfied with lunch and a treat!
I took the scenic route home, driving along the lake through some of the small beach communities. I love this side of the lake, even though few of my friends prefer it to the other, more popular side. I know that it will remain in the domain of my heart until my death. I feel so blessed to have spent so many happy moments there. I will remember it fondly regardless of where I am or how many years have passed. My prayer is that the lake will stay healthy as it is in danger in so many ways.
What childhood place does your soul hover over?
Peace,
Suzanne
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