Reflections on the Poch

Here I sit in the green rocking chair on the ‘poch’ (as Mainers would pronounce), overlooking Rangeley Lake. Our camp (another local term for a lakeside cabin) has been in my family for 5 generations and I have spent a part of every summer here for 37 years. Memories of our wedding, my brother’s wedding, hearing the loons call, skinny dipping, napping in the hammock, lobster dinners, running into town, Pine Tree Frosty’s, boating to the Bog, seeing Moose, listening to the sea planes, picking raspberries and blueberries, and pumping our drinking water from the well flood my brain. Memories that remain consistent from generation to generation are ones that give me great joy to pass along to my son.

We arrived late last night after a comical day of travel – delays at JFK, sitting on the tarmac while Riley had diarrhea, spilling of salad dressing in our seat with no napkins, and eating a salad with no utensils. Despite the comedy, we were welcomed by the glow of the full moon on the lake and my favorite loons calling to one another that sent a frequency of peace and joy throughout my body and soul. We were also welcomed by my brother, Chris, his wife Barbara, and my mom (their baby Jake was sleeping). Riley was so excited to arrive and was telling everyone about the three Moose we saw on the way in – including a baby. It gives me so much joy to see how excited he is to be here and I relish in observing the memories he is creating for himself.

Tomorrow we will celebrate my grandmother’s passing with an intimate family ceremony as we spread her ashes over the property and place her headstone overlooking the lake. We will read some poems out of her poetry book and honor her legacy with thoughts, prayers, and words. I feel Grandma’s essence here and I am confident it will never fade, as camp was where her heart always lived.

The wind begins to pick up on the lake as the clouds cover the warm sun. I am bundled up in a sweatshirt and sweatpants as I hear the chirping birds and chipmunks get louder in the trees that surround me. A speed boat passes by and it makes me wonder if I am really going to swim across the lake this year. That feat is one of Grandma’s many claims to fame – she is the only one in my family who has ever done it. I thought it would be the perfect way to honor and celebrate her this year, by joining her ranks and doing it myself. Although, from where I sit gazing out into the blue water, the distance of a mile and a half looks quite daunting. Thank God I have my wetsuit and my husband to Kayak next to me… I know I can do it.

I plan to write more during my time here, as it is one of my most favorite things to do while here at camp. It is a little different typing on my computer rather than writing in my journal, but I feel compelled to share my reflections with those who are interested and it seems that this is the most efficient way to do so.

Stay tuned for more…