Summer Memories in Waterford, Maine

 By Suzanne Rose Meehan

Every Summer, my parents took us to Waterford, Maine. 

Our vacation always landed on the last two weeks in July or the first two weeks in August, whichever could be scheduled. No amount of driving would stop us from going. Vacations in Maine were a sacred family ritual.

We always went to Kokosing on Lake Keoka. Our cabin, called "Katahdin", was the only cabin on a hill. It came complete with an actual touchstone called Grandfather Rock. This was the place of my youth. The place of the annual pilgrimage that helped me review the prior year of my life.

My memories of Maine come together like pieces of calico in a patchwork quilt, preserved in snapshots of time that are dear to my heart. These summertime memories are powerful treasures leaving impressions that have shaped who I've become.

Here are a few of those snapshots:

• Hiking up mount Tire'm with my brothers and seeing Bear Pond from the top before running down so fast we couldn't stop.

  
  

• Swinging from the rope swing where camp friends would gather for a rush of exhilaration and a strong sense of freedom.

  
  

• Walking up to the Strong family’s "Big House" to send our mail while picking blueberries that grew wild along the path next to the wintergreen. We’d eat them later at the Miller's annual pancake breakfast.

  
  

• Watching the sun rise across Keoka's edge with my Poppy still in his bathrobe having his coffee. Together, we watched the pink yellow into another lovely day! 

  
  

• Smelling pine needles under my feet as I walked the trail to the swimming area.

  
  

• Hearing the sound of the lapping water on the lakeshore. There's not another sound like it!

  
  

• Fishing off the long pile of boulders with my Dad; we’d catch sunnies and release them back into their home. 

  
  

• Eating the best Sugar-N-Gold corn on the cob that melted into the taste of Summer in your mouth. 

  
  

• Stargazing on the dock, mesmerized as I looked up into waves of stardust like a galactic snow blizzard of wonder. 

  
  

• Riding in Stan's water-ski boat, getting sprayed with sunshine and water.

  
  

• Taking a rowboat with friends to L.R. Round's store for candy, ice cream, and drinks. 

  Canoeing across smooth water, gliding along on an afternoon trip to visit Rock Island.

Summertime wouldn't be complete without falling in love. 

A first love awakens us to the possibilities of meaningful closeness, and that hope never fades.

There's a clock that goes off inside me, calling out.

It's in the sweet smell of Summer's air and in the cicadid's song. 

I'm reminded that it's that time of year again.  It's time. 

It's time to go back to Waterford, Maine.