Screenshot
Rowboat
When I was young my grandmother ran a small hotel on a lake in the Catskills, and I’ve written before about the idyllic summers I spent there with my family. (See My Heart Remembers My Grandmother’s Hotel, My Game Mother, Hotel Kittens, The Cat and the Forshpeiz, Playing with Fire, and The Troubadour)
One happy memory of those childhood summers is rowing on the lake with my father, and when I was old enough, taking a rowboat out on my own.
Since then I’ve certainly been on larger and more impressive boats – but it’s the memory of that old rowboat I cherish most. And in my mind’s eye I can still see that little girl out on the lake all alone. And I still can hear the creak of her oarlocks, and the croaking of the frogs as she rowed back to the dock and home.
– Dana Susan Lehrman
Dana Susan LehrmanThis retired librarian loves big city bustle and cozy country weekends, friends and family, good books and theatre, movies and jazz, travel, tennis, Yankee baseball, and writing about life as she sees it on her blog World Thru Brown Eyes!
www.WorldThruBrownEyes.com
It is wonderful how that simple memory of the rowboat brings forth all those cherished thoughts of your grandmother, Dana, locked away and pungent still.
Thanx Betsy, yes indeed, the power of memory!
Your rowboat memory is so sweet, as are the other stories of those wonderful summers in the Catskills. Like you, I first learned how to row a boat as a young girl, and remember the sense of accomplishment out on the water, just me and the boat. You capture your experience beautifully.
Thanx Khati, the croaking of the frogs is embedded in my memory!