Lazy Summer Daze


I am trying out a new little posting routine. Instead of writing about depression all the time I am going to take a little side trips now and then and write some fun little personal memories. 

 So, for today's memory I am taking you to a dock in Bobcaygeon, Ontario in 1956. My bachelor uncle, my favourite uncle, had a small houseboat on the river there. It was a neat little floating cottage and he used it strictly for fishing. To me it was a dollhouse on the water.

 I found the place quite magical. Once you parked your car you had to walk along a couple of floating walkways to get over the water to the boathouse. Those walkways were rickety and wiggly and fun to navigate. Bulrush reeds surrounded the walkway and the water was shallow but black and mysterious. The joy of wondering what lie beneath tickled my imagination.

My favourite activity at that place was to lie on the dock, like the children in this picture face down looking into the water. Uncle Ed would put bait on a string and I would just hold it and watch the fish come. Oh the fun of seeing the fish navigate around my worm and the thrill of hoping they might bite it and I might catch a fish!

 But you know, even without the fishing line, I could have stayed there for hours and sometimes I did! I just loved watching the activity in the water. It was like looking into another world, a world I would never live in. A quiet world where no one had to walk anywhere or get a ride, they would just float where ever they wanted to go.
I could lose myself. Of course I was young, so I did not carry the weight of the world on my little shoulders. And it was summer, such a wonder coat free season for we Canadians! And the water has so many healing qualities, the sounds, the sight, the feel and the way it constantly changes. But for me it was the magic of the creatures that lived in those waters that provided my escape.

 And now that memory has been coming alive for me because I find myself spending a lot of time in Bobcaygeon again! Part of my walking routine there is to walk right by that spot where my uncle's houseboat used to be. I take a few minutes and stand there and .... recall the whole picture.

 It is such a vivid memory. Why are some memories more vivid than others?

 We all need ways to lose ourselves. With depression too often we lose ourselves in re-living bad memories. Why not lose ourselves in a good memory?

 WHAT ABOUT YOU? How are you feeling today? Do you have an  activity that you do to lose your self? Do you have a special childhood memory that you are reminded of today? Maybe writing  about it could be your own special getaway?

 Don't give up! There is hope for depression.

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