Nostalgia and all that good stuff....

I swear I wish I could post more, but by the time I think of something to write about ~ it takes me about two weeks to find the time to sit down and hash it out! Things here are good, but it's actually been a pretty busy summer ~ first I had to travel for work, then a week at the lake with the fam, and then Rhett's been sick & CRANKY for about a week. Next week, we're going to the coast of S.C. for a few days and then it'll be almost time for hubs to go back to work! Yah! He's been trying to enjoy his month off, but it's hard for a workaholic like him. His day consists of getting up @ 7ish, drinking coffee, reading paper, FB and TV until about 10. Then he drives around for a little while, has some lunch, takes a nap and goes to the gym at 2. Every day. Life is so rough some times....

Anyway ~ I've titled this post about nostalgia because that's what a couple of days at the lake always does to me. My family has been going to the same campground at the same lake for about 100 years. Ever since my dad was a little boy, the Wells family has packed up the house and took their summer vacation at Clark Hill for eating, swimming, boating and...more eating. Last year was the first year I hadn't gone to the lake in my 29 years of existence. That's what having a newborn does to you.

Now we stay in cabins, which have been the exact same since...well probably for about 100 years. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, wood paneling, about 800 sq. ft and sometimes as many as 15 people. We have always traveled with my grandparents and my aunt, uncle and their three kids and whatever friends have come along. Clark Hill is what it is. You always know what you're gonna get and you always know what to expect. We have the same meals on the same days each year. We have the same bedrooms, play the same card games, and hear the same stories over and over again. Did you hear the one about the 'Mount Pilot Girls?" Or 'Take me to the tire?' or what about 'Beat It' and the time my mom got locked out of the cabin with a screaming baby in the middle of the night? Oh ~ you haven't heard those stories? Well, I have...about 100 times. That water, those pine trees, and those rolling hills all hold the memories of my summers growing up. It's where I learned to swim, tried to ski, fell in love, fell out of love, and learned a painful lesson of growing up and moving on. When I go back there, I am mezmorized by the memories of summers past where what started out as a summer romance turned into much more. Those times at the lake where right out of a Kenny Chesney song and no matter how bad things got, once we were back at the lake, all was right with the world.

It's easy for me to slip into nostalgia's warm embrace and only remember the good times ~ that's the campground where we spent every weekend together. The cove in the middle is where we jetskied and the one in the back is where we skinny dipped (mom ~ ignore that line!) Those trees held the hammock where we napped and there's where we hung out at night, building fires, sneaking drinks of boone's farm strawberry hill and listening to lynard skynard, the allman brothers, and conway twitty. Around every corner is another memory.

Nostalgia is such a powerful force whose rose tinted glasses cover the ugly truth with warm fuzzies tied up in a pretty ribbon. In reality, the relationship that started out as a summer romance lasted about five years too long. As we both have grown up and moved on, I know that we are right were we should be. I wouldn't trade my life now for anything in the world and I'm looking forward to making new memories with the hubs and the kid as he grows up. Who knows, maybe he'll have a Clark Hill summer romance of his own! After all, everyone needs to experience that magic. Let's just hope it's not with the ex'es little girl. That would just be weird! :)