Analysis Of ' Rene Sat With Night At Bush Lake

Most people don’t know how it feels to lose a family member that had done service, my Grandfather had died when I was in Third Grade which was in 2011. He was a veteran of the Cold War. His cause of death was cancer. The doctors said he wasn’t going to survive. The sad part is that he died just basically a week before his 70th birthday.

One more turn, passing people on motorcycles, and we finally reached our lake. Batsto lake was beautiful. The destination made it even more special as it seemed almost like my sister and I had tumbled across land we could call our own. Almost as if we were explorers who came across land untouched by mankind. Trees surrounded us, creating shade for the few other cars that were parked on the dirt beach. They were families who shared the same idea of old-fashioned fun.

I sat at the front of the boat with my two sisters and our friends as we pressed through the rough water, heading towards Three Rooker Bar. It was satisfying to relax there and feel the warm summer breeze blow through my hair. I watched the seagulls, as they circled in the air then plummeted down into the water to come back up victoriously clasping a fish. Occasionally the boat would hit a huge wave and send the salty sea water splashing up into our eyes.

           May 31st, the day my family and I had been waiting for, ship day. I woke up at 3:30 a.m. to fly to Missouri. I left with two other people: Boone and Hiple. Boone was 18, he had graduated from high school two weeks prior to shipping out for Basic Training. He would go straight through Basic and onto Advanced Individual Training (AIT); while both Hiple and I will go through Basic. Then next year, to continue our journey in the U.S. Army, the two of us, accompanied by others, will leave for AIT. That morning a recruiter dropped us off at the airport, our families came back with us through security and waited with us for our flight. I was of course stopped through security,

Luckily, the lake was so spread out that it was easy to find a private place. The body of the lake connected to several small streams and swimming holes, so if one found a given spot was too populated, it didn’t take much effort to find a secluded space.

The day was Thursday, June 6, 2013. I remember it like it was yesterday. A humid night at Fort Riley, Kansas. My husband, Robert, had been deployed to Afghanistan for the past seven months. I was anxiously awaiting his return. We had previously been through the experience of a deployment when he deployed to Iraq three years earlier, however, experience can't prepare you for this moment. My three children and I had been waiting for hours. It was ten o'clock in the evening but we were awake as though we had drunk a case of Red Bulls. We were standing in a huge, empty building with all of the other families waiting for their Soldier to arrive. My stomach felt as though it was in a million knots. I couldn't believe after all of this time he would finally be back!

As the months go by, all I could ever think about was the moment I would be able to bring my soldier home for good. My boyfriend, Ben, and I only got to talk on Sundays

was the passing of my Uncle, my Mother’s older brother. He was an inspiration, a mentor, and

They would wait until it was dark, and then venture out onto the beach. Dad would barbecue cheap ribs and fresh corn, while her mother lit a stone firepit in the sand. Gwen was responsible for setting up the beach chairs, lining them perfectly along the lake shore. The water would be a hue of ominous green, almost hypnotizing as the waves shifted and stirred. It felt like even the moon wanted to take in the view, glowing as brightly as possible.

Five years of growth have left lilypads eating up the water, leaving a very small and dirty, round puddle that used to captivate memories of clarity and sun-kissed skin. Grey clouds generate darkness and watch over the sea of trees that cling onto the hill; no longer casting shadows over the lake, instead, they droop over the graves lining the water, mourning over their lost friends. The water reeks of fish and dirt, overpowering the sweet scent of the forest, it clogs our noses and constricts our lungs; the once sweet water has turned sour and the palm tree that takes guard on the edge is nothing but an inconsequential stick, sticking out of the weeping soil; a ghost of what once used to be our diving board into the water and our refuge. He is no longer there to command the sun to shine on his leaves and the lake, he is no longer there to control the darkness that rests upon our mirror. Birds still sing until their lungs have no air and cicadas still chirp till their hearts give out, but to a tune filled with a slight melancholy that perhaps the lack of youthful, bright-eyed children to sing their melodies to is the cause. Our boat has made itself a coat of grime and moss and is filled with a sea of spiders that once used to chase us off into ‘Woofina Waters,’ now a non-existent part of the lake. The fish conquer what little is left, they once ran the mirror before we, the child pioneers

Friday early morning, we received a phone call from my dad telling us that we need to come back to the hospital. I could feel the tears coming down my cheeks, I just wanted to explode at any moment as we heard his final words, that moment in that hospital room overpower with so many mixed emotions

Out on the lake is one of the best places to relax, especially when the water is as smooth as glass with no wave movement expect when waves are generated by other boat. You hear the quiet crashing of the waves, the humming of the motor, the songs of the birds, and the occasional splash the fish make after jumping for the clouds. Being out on the lake is one of the best places to kick back, relax, and enjoy the majestic view, but the best view is of the sun as it sets for a good night’s rest. That’s the best view because of all the vibrant colors that fill the sky like red, orange, yellow pink, blue, purple, and more towards the end black.

Jennifer sat in an Adirondack chair the deck of her and Adam’s fifty-two hundred square foot lakefront home. The sun was slowly dipping into the horizon, casting Coventry Lake in the flat light of dusk. Adam walked onto the deck with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

You find yourself sitting on a beach. You know that the lake you see in front of you is Lake Michigan. You are sitting a little ahead of where the dune grass meets the area of open sand between the forest on the long hill that stretches as far as you can see down the beach behind you, and the lake itself. You got here a while ago, and have been sitting here, waiting for the moment that has just now arrived.