This is where my kids have spent every. single. 4th of July. of their entire existence. It's all they know. It is humid. There are mosquitoes. It takes planes, trains, automobiles, and boats just to get there. But it is perfection. Everything about Lake Vermilion fills my heart with summer, love, and the sheer joy of knowing that sometimes you can go home.
This summer is different. It's our first summer without Dad, which in and of itself is hard, but the icing on the cake is a global pandemic. End result? This is the first summer in as long as I an remember that I will miss the 4th of July at Lake Vermilion, and I am definitely struggling. Facebook is kindly reminding me each day that over the past 9 years we've made this annual pilgrimage to a little boat house were family is always waiting.
I am both sad and maybe a bit relieved that this summer is different. Nothing is normal. I am sad because I miss the lake. I miss lazy days on the deck. Letting the kids swim non-stop. Spending time with Dave. Lighting off fireworks. Kayak racing around the island. Crayfish hunting. Letting the next generation run feral on the island.
The list of things that I will miss is long. It goes on. And on.
But mixed in there is some relief. Going home this summer meant facing a 4th of July without Dad greeting us at the boat house, or making us breakfast, or drinking coffee and watching the morning news. I don't know what being back in a place that doesn't just remind me of Dad, but is Dad, looks like without him.
Summer is never going to be the same, but fingers crossed that we'll be back at Lake Vermilion for 2021.
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