on home

One thing I noticed about growing up in a small town is the people in it have big dreams. People usually appreciate their roots, yet they want to move onto bigger and “better” things. People always have somewhere else they would rather be and something else they would rather do. Unfortunately, most people are likely not to truly appreciate their home until they have left it and have had a chance to look back.

I like to think of Bright’s Grove as a hidden gem– surrounded by a freshwater lake and tucked between small towns- a unique secret, different from any place in the rest of the world. I live on one corner of the town and my best friend lives on the opposite corner; it takes eight minutes to bike there! Growing up in Bright’s Grove, I realized my greatest possession was a bike. We biked to school, we biked to each other’s houses, we biked to the plaza and sometimes we just biked around aimlessly. A bike ride through Bright’s Grove must be one of the most peaceful, calming experiences that will always balance my mind and soul in a way no other activity could.

I’d always be the last one to meet everyone; I liked to cruise my way there. The large trees on my street would tower over the road and although I loved the cave they created over the street, I always avoided the shade to ride in the sun. I’d seize any opportunity to soak in the sun in an attempt to compete for the darkest tan of the summer. After a cold winter, hibernating inside and seeing the daily reflection of pasty skin, we were happy to have any shade of colour.

I would reach the Crown House at the end of my street and know to turn. Although the dead end sign in front of the steps leading to the beach would also indicate the turn, the house was a significant and royal landmark. Looking to the top of the roof, a gold railing circled a golden dome, making the house appear to be wearing a crown. After a turn right, I continued my cruise along the beach. I’d look down at the waves rolling smooth into the sandy shore, providing a ripple splash, humming the ease of serenity through the air. The hot sun beamed down, roasting my skin as the perfect breeze cooled it, just enough to still feel the heat. The Weeping Willow trees didn’t seem so sad, swaying back and forth in a game with the wind. The road was free of bumps and provided a smooth ride on its freshly paved cement. A couple of kids would run through the water, yelping for unwanted help as they splashed each other in the waves. Eventually they were both under water and instantly adapted to the refreshing chill.

I’d cycle in the center, taking full ownership of the road, weaving from one side to the other to provide a simple source of entertainment for myself. I might have encountered a passerby or two; likely a runner on a daily exercise or a mother pushing a stroller. Every pedestrian was usually a familiar face and even if he or she wasn’t, we would still greet each other. In a small town everyone seems to know everyone and an underlying, genuine respect for each other simply exists.

I would arrive without wondering how much time had passed. I could see my friends already in the water, their towels laid out in a perfect row beside each other. I would ride my bike to the edge of the road, keeping my left foot on the pedal and raising my right over to join it. I would come to a slow halt and drop my bike to the ground– no need to lock it up. I’d skip down the decaying, wooden stairs, questioning if they’d hold me up all the way to the end- they did. My sandals were off before I hit the sand and I picked them up to carry. I would quickly tip-toe to the water’s edge and make my way down the shore to meet the towels lined in a row. I’d walk up the hot sand, pull my towel from over my shoulder and use the wind to help me lay it down smoothly. I would grab the bottom of my shirt with my arms crossed and pull it over my head to reveal my newest bathing suit. I’d toss it on my towel, drop my shorts down and take a sprint towards the water. It would sting as I splashed through and dropped underneath, but I’d immediately cool and the sweat I once tasted on my upper lip would blend into the water. I’d look over to my friends and smile. Every care was washed away somewhere in the lake and I knew I was home.

written april 2007- adjusting to the not being in bg