Brooklyn and the Big Lake

Brooklyn lived near a very big lake. She couldn’t see the lake from her house, but almost every time she got in the car with her mom, she could see it. They’d drive over a hilltop, and there it would be. Brooklyn called it “the Big Lake.”

In the winter time, the lake was dark and steel gray some days. Some days it was vast and bright white. Once in a while, when the days were warm, it became shiny and blue.

One weekend during the winter, Brooklyn went to a cabin on the big lake. The lake looked so different than in the summertime. She and her grandma stood on the edge of it. The wind hit them, sharp and cold. They took a few steps out onto the lake’s hard surface. The big lake felt like a big block of ice.

“Brrrr....” said Brooklyn, “We better go back to the cabin and drink some cocoa!”
Brooklyn, her sister, Grandma, and Grandpa played in the snow by the cabin and made a little snowman. Then they went back inside and warmed up. From the window upstairs in her room, Brooklyn and Grandma looked at the lake with binoculars. Three men were setting up little tents for ice houses and fishing. The men drove their red truck on the lake’s hard, icy surface.

“Can you believe that this is the same lake we play in during the summer, Brookie?” Grandma asked.

“No,” Brookie said, shaking her head. It seemed like a completely different place.

The winter passed. For many months the big lake stood still. Then, in the springtime, the days started getting longer. When their van sat in the sunshine, it became warm inside – instead of staying cold. When Brooklyn woke up in the mornings, the sun was up, too. Birds were beginning to tweet outside her window, and the snow was finally gone.

And when they came over the hilltop one morning, there was the lake – bright, blue, and smiling at them.

“Look, Mama!” smiled Brooklyn, “The lake is back! Now we can go to the beach!”

“The lake is back, Brookie. But it is still too cold for the beach,” said Mama.

The water moved and reflected the sunshine. The ice was mostly gone.

It took another two months for the lake and the land around it to really get warm. Lots of sun and rain brought the leaves out of their buds on the branches. The grass and weeds and flowers began to push through the ground – it wasn’t icy anymore, either.

Brooklyn, her sister, her mom and dad all piled into the van and drove down near the lake. They parked. Then they hiked on a path, and climbed down the hill. There was their favorite rocky beach.

“Now Grandma and I can throw rocks again! Right Mama?” Brooklyn asked.

“You sure can!” said Daddy. Daddy skipped a big smooth stone across the surface of the water.

Every summer, Brooklyn’s family and her Grandma and Grandpa liked to spend a couple of days right next to the big lake. They would drive up the shore to a cabin. Everyone would unpack the van and then they’d go exploring. Everyone would walk down little dirt path to reach the rocky shoreline. Then they’d spend hours climbing over rocks.

Brooklyn and her Grandma could sometimes spend two hours just throwing rocks and poking their toes in the water. If they were lucky, the raspberries would be ripe and Brooklyn, Kaylyn (her sister), and Grandpa would pick a whole bowl of raspberries to put on their ice cream after supper and their pancakes in the morning.

Mama smiled by the lake. Kaylyn loved to watch all the birds by the big lake. Some floated, some dived. Seagulls tried to steal bits of your sandwich if you dropped anything.

In the evening, it was okay to build a little fire out on the rocks by the lake. When the sun went down, Brooklyn could see the big ships filled with iron ore way across the lake. The ships moved slowly. They had lots of lights, and looked like a little island city floating on the water.

Sometimes, when they stayed by the lake, big storms came up. If Brooklyn looked out the window, lightning filled the sky and made the big clouds light up. The little waves became really, really big. When the storm ended, the lake still crashed against the rocks for awhile. But usually, by morning, the clouds would be gone and the water would sparkle.

On the last morning by the lake, Brooklyn and her mama would go out on the big rocks as far as they could and sit down. They’d feel the wind, and look out at the beautiful blue water. Sometimes, for a few minutes they wouldn’t talk at all. Brooklyn and Mama would just sit and listen to the lake. It would tell them little lake stories – along with the song of the birds all around them.

Then Mama would sigh.

“Time to go home, Brookie. We have to get back in the van.”

On the drive home one day, Grandma said, “Say goodbye to the Big Lake, Brook, until we come back again.”

“Grandma, that isn’t the Big Lake,” said Brooklyn. “That’s Lake Superior,”

“That’s right!” said Grandma. “Where did you learn that?”

“Mama told me,” smiled Brooklyn.

There would be many more hikes along the lake before winter, and many hours of throwing rocks in the water. Kaylyn would feed the birds and Brooklyn would climb the steps of the big tower and see the lake from the tower’s very top. Some days they’d go swimming with their cousins. They would watch fireworks over the lake on the Fourth of July.

And when the fall got very cold, Brooklyn would bundle up one last time and hike down to her favorite beach with Daddy. They’d throw some huge rocks to make a big splash and look out at the waves. Then at last Brooklyn would say goodbye to the moving water when it got too cold. She and her dad would hike back to the van knowing that the next time they looked out, the Big Lake would be turning to ice again.