The cottage. For our entire lives my parents have been renting cottages, enjoying the great outdoors, campfires, the lake, relaxation at its finest. My brothers and I would wake up sooo excited, ready to go, awaiting the caravan of cousins, friends and family that would shortly arrive to start our trek into the great outdoors. My hyper sicilian father, up at the crack of dawn, packing our wall-to-wall shag carpet van, leaving a little alley that my brothers and I would crawl into and sleep most of the 5 hour journey. I remembered them fondly. However, I also remembered my mother packing boxes and boxes of, well, basically the house itself, cursing the saints, my father… It’s a lot of work and they did it for us. Seeing my sons face as he went into the water for the first time, as he raced across the sand babbling in delight for the truck ahead, those are visions I will cherish. The squeaky hard bed, not-s0-nice bathroom, the 4 out of 5 rainy days, the oven of a cottage we had, zero relaxing, I’ll tuck away into the back of my brain.
1282244980
599.680170576
900
599.680170576
900
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