Lori Wiseman – Cottage 39 – Back to Book 3
 
Belvedere. How do you explain this place, this magic really, to someone who has never been here?
 
This place of shiny copper pennies carefully placed on the railroad tracks, gleaming, then gloriously flattened by a passing train. Warming up on a beach towel thrown on the hot sand after jumping off the pier. Remembering the distinct aroma of Bain de Soleil, red-orange from who-knows-what they made it of, melting the minute it hit your skin, inevitably a little gritty from the sand. The comfort and yes, joy, of hearing the constant rhythm of the waves, murmuring, sometimes thundering, on the beach.
 
This place of riding bikes (often too big) to the beach when you were young, speeding up as you flew under the tunnel below the tracks, boldly avoiding spiders and whatever lurked in that muddy water beneath your tires.
 
This place of pine tinged breezes that awaken your winter-dulled senses in a heartbeat. The turquoise hue of the water, so clear you can see the tadpoles swimming by your toes. So gray and dark on a stormy day it doesn’t seem possible to be the same water, the same lake. This place of electric blue skies that holds the sun in its hand.
 
This place of porch visits and playing games of hearts late into the night, of being warned not to jump off the railroad bridge because of eels in the channel. Of sneaking in a bit too late after dark, giggling, hoping no one would notice the time.
 
This place of lasting memories and friendships, even for those of us who seldom visited, for those of us whose hearts became gently and inextricably wrapped in the magic of this northern place.
 
 
Lori Wiseman
Cottage 39