Saturday at the lake

So I was sitting here at the little house on the lake yesterday and there was a party going on next door. Loud kids running around like crazed banshees, adults telling stories certainly embellished by too much alcohol, adult voices shouting "You're going to get hurt if you keep doing that, so don't come crying to me" and then the inevitable answer a few minutes later "Mom, I'm bleeding."

Volleyball games and football games in the lake with the sure to come argument about whether someone was out of bounds or not, an argument by the way which could only be won by who argued the longest and loudest since it is extremely difficult to paint lines on water.

Then there are the smells emanating from the grill. I smelled hamburgers and hot dogs, perhaps some ribs (personally I thought they might have had just a bit too much tomato based barbecue sauce on them) some nice fresh hot Italian sausage (I also spotted another hot Italian over there in a little black... never mind) and some jerk. Chicken that is.

As the afternoon wore on into night, voices grew louder, I heard the same story about the time someone was in was on a date with his wife or someone else's wife, not quite sure since as the afternoon wore on, the story was louder but more unintelligible. There was more of the "Stop that or you'll get hurt" and the later reply of "Mom, I think it's broken".

As the sun began to set, the bonfire was lit, and the din was a lot quieter and even more incomprehensible. And gradually the exodus began. Now you have to understand there isn't a heck of a lot of parking here. I live at the end of the road, there is one way in and one way out. So as each vehicle tries to leave there is a lot of "Okay, back it up a little, cut to the right, little more, little more, too much, okay come on back, that's good, now forward, slow, slow, wait, watch out for the rock. STOP!!!". I picked up the broken pieces of tail light this morning.

The ebb and tide of conversation slowly ended, all the cars left, except two, one little sports car and the other a SUV with foggy windows. The smell of the bonfire slowly diminished and all was quiet again here at the little house on the lake. It brought back memories of many other cook-outs long ago, with another group of people, many of who are no longer with us, except in many wonderful memories.

I just have one question: Why didn't they invite me?