“Launched Off Shoulders and Into the Deep End”

AI Generated

🌞 Summer

I like spring, but early summer has its place.
August, though? You can keep it. It’s way too hot for me.

Summer is just getting started, and I already bought my floaty. Last summer, we went to see Kathy and Sharon at the lake. They weren’t home, but that didn’t stop me. I waded out into the lake and slipped—under I went. Well, I figured I was already wet, I may as well make the best of it. Their dogs were gone on a walk, nothing was locked up, so I “borrowed” one of their floaties and went for a nice leisurely float around the lake. (Don’t tell them I used their stuff without asking!)

This summer, I can’t wait to have my own floaty and my own trailer—one I can climb into and change out of my wet clothes. There’s just something about the lake, or a river, or even a stream starting to dry up. I love it all.

Some things from your childhood just don’t leave you, and for me, time at the lake is one of those things.
That’s one of my regrets when raising my boys—I never had time for the lake. I worked all summer long, and by the time I got home, I was beat. But I still have those cool summers as a kid tucked in my heart.

Some of the kids I went to the lake with? They still read my stories. So tell me—how do you remember it?

We used to walk to the lake, barefoot and ready to jump in the second we got there. I really wish some strong, good-looking boy would squat down, let me climb on his shoulders, and launch me through the air one more time. I can still feel the air rushing past, hear the splash. There were those huge tubes out in the middle of the lake that everyone tried to grab hold of so they didn’t have to swim. And the smaller ones, just right for floating around on our own—if those big strong boys ever left us alone.

Oh yes… and those boys loved chasing us girls with garter snakes, through the bushes and into parked cars—in one door and out the other—all of us screaming. I think even now, at my age, if Rick volunteered to shoot me off his shoulders, I might actually try it. (We’d probably need a crane and a medic, but still.)

🌊 Not Every Summer Memory Sparkles

Summers were magical as kids, but not always good.

I remember what I think was a family reunion at Surveyor’s Lake. Back then, only one side of the lake was in use. The edge got really slippery from all the kids running in and out. My baby brother was playing in the water and tried to climb back up that slope, but he slipped and went under. I can still see Aunty Edna racing to the edge—feet flying out from under her—but she managed to grab that baby and pull him up. She saved him.

That image never left me.

😨 The Day the Joke Wasn’t Funny

Years later, when my boys were small, Gary and I took a load of teenagers to the lake. I had three little boys with me and one teenager who couldn’t swim, so I stayed on the beach.

Gary and the older boys swam out to the ski jump in the middle of the lake. There were no boats that day, so they were all taking turns jumping off. I sat at the edge, watching them with a growing sense of dread. I couldn’t shake it. Something just didn’t feel right.

I kept yelling at them to be careful, but they just laughed at me. Thought I was hilarious. Then suddenly—everyone started yelling.

“Todd! Where’s Todd?”
“TOOD!”
“Do you see him?!”

They were diving into the water, over and over, trying to find him.
And I was helpless.

I couldn’t swim out there. I had little ones on the beach. And I knew—even if I got to him—I wasn’t strong enough to help.

Turns out? It was a prank.
Todd had climbed under the boat ramp, and those brats were just messing with me.
To this day, when I think about that moment, I still get mad. They thought it was funny. I was terrified.

🧠 The Memory I Didn’t Know I Had

A couple years later, I told my brother Dennis about it.

He said, “It’s no wonder you were so afraid—you watched Gunner drown.”

And just like that, a door opened in my mind.

Back when we were kids, Gilbert White and his friend Gunner came to the lake. They’d both been drinking. Gib was a great swimmer—he took off his boots and dove right in, laughing and having fun. But Gunner, who was deaf and drunk, jumped in without removing his boots. Gib yelled at him, but Gunner couldn’t hear.

I remember Gilbert swimming under the dock, trying to find him. Then I remember him telling us kids to run to the house and get help.

I don’t remember what happened after that.

Until Dennis said it out loud, I had blocked the whole thing out.
And suddenly, all those years of fear, all that panic at the lake—it made sense.

💛 Letting It Go

It wasn’t some silly “mom fear.”
It was something deep and real and buried.

Now that I know, I’m not afraid like I was. I’m still careful—especially with little ones—but I’m no longer paralyzed by it. And I have my brother’s memory to thank for that.

Isn’t it something how the mind protects us from what we’re not ready to face?

💬 Wanda-ism:

“Some memories float on the surface. Others wait at the bottom until you’re strong enough to pull them up.”

Pull up a chair. I’ve got a story.