When I was a kid, Mom used to take us to this lake in Rhode Island.
[I do remember the name of said lake but I’m not going to mention it because I don’t want anyone to stalk me. I know, I have a ridiculous level of paranoia. I don’t even go there anymore… I don’t even live in RI anymore!]
My three sisters and I would pile into Mom’s station wagon, and she’d take us to this lake for the day a few times throughout the summer. [My poor dad was always working or on call. He came sometimes, though.] It never seemed to be unbearably crowded, but of course, this was many years ago. I remember swimming and burying my feet in the sand. I remember walking up to the arcade and the candy and food stands. I remember a very specific type of lollipop I would always get. I got one somewhere else recently. It wasn’t the same.
I often think of taking my kids to that lake, but it has changed too much. It would make me sad. And I don’t want that because remembering that place as it was makes me happy. I don’t want to ruin it.
p.s.— Those lollipops would be too sweet for me now. But I bet they’d taste different at the lake.
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