Rediscovering the cottage

The first time I took my son swimming in the crystal clear lake at our family’s cottage, he was 14 months old. His eyes lit up as his pudgy little feet sank into the squishy sand, the ice-cold water lapping up over his ankle.

As he wandered further into the water, utterly fearless, he laughed whenever a tiny fish brushed up against his legs. He bent down, grabbing fistfuls of rocks to fling far into the water, towards the mountains that surrounded us. He beamed at me, thrilled to discover my favourite place in the world.

It was the perfect cottage moment, and it took me right back to my own childhood memories of being in the country surrounded by the people I loved.

When I was a child, my family spent summers at my aunt and uncle’s country house in North Hero, Vermont. Our days were packed with waterskiing, frog catching, fishing, building sand castles and endless games of hide and seek.

A few years later, my parents purchased their own waterfront property in Quebec’s picturesque Laurentians area. My sister and I were ecstatic, and we brought friends with us every weekend to share our joy.

As teenagers, though, our interest in paddling canoes and collecting rocks soon waned; we begged our parents to let us stay in the city with our friends. I took the spectacular views for granted; the peaceful bliss was wasted on me. It was way more fun clubbing on the weekends, or shopping.

But when my son was born, I felt a powerful urge to spend as much time in the country as possible. During my maternity leave, I often took off with him, eagerly anticipating the breathless silence that greeted us as my tires crunched over the gravel in the driveway. The lake view somehow soothed away the sleepless nights and constant motion of new motherhood.

Today, my husband and I spend as many weekends and holidays there as we can, and try to arrange our schedules so we can pick up our boy at noon on Fridays and head ‘up north’ before the traffic. When my sister comes in from Toronto with her family, the kids howl in delight as soon as they see each other. They love being in or on the water, searching for beavers in our canoe or taking turns being captain on my father’s ancient electric blue motorboat.

Although our time at the cottage comes complete with swollen black-fly bites, we don’t care. It’s worth it to be able to watch the sun rise over the still water.

My son and I started a ritual together soon after he learned to talk: we say hello to the lake the second we get out of the car, and we say goodbye just as we’re leaving. He runs right up to the edge of the water, careful not to get his shoes wet, and he waves to the loons.

“Bye, lake! See you soon!” he calls out, before sprinting up the hill and into the car.

We’re always a little sad when we leave, because there’s nowhere we’d rather be. But we know that next weekend will come soon enough.

Wendy Helfenbaum is a writer and television producer at Take Two Productions.