By Molly Miller
Multiple weekends each summer of my childhood were spent at my grandparents’ quaint cabin on Anderson Island, or “the island” as we found ourselves nicknaming it. The house on the lake holds multiple generations of memories both joyous and sorrowful. My family’s cabin is a living memory of what has now passed.
My aunt Jaime was always full of life, love, and laughter. She never failed to make a trip to the island one to remember. Whether it was the conversations she held with us, or the dinners she would make, or even diving into the lake with the kids, she was always there. The life of the party that ended too soon. The memory I will always cherish.
***
I woke up to the smell of bacon cooking and the sound of quiet chatter. There was light shining in through the huge A-frame windows. The sun was my alarm clock. I lay in the twin bed, confused for a moment, before remembering where I was. I had woken up at Anderson Island, on a peaceful August morning. I pushed the old quilt off my body and shuffled down from the loft bedroom.
“Good morning Molls!” my mom and aunts greeted me as I plopped on the big brown couch.
“Morning,” I croaked back, still struggling to wake up.
My mom and my aunt were sipping coffee while my other aunt, Jaime, stood at the stove, cooking scrambled eggs. They talked and giggled quietly, not wanting to wake anyone up. It was a classic, slow morning.
After a filling breakfast of eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, and fruit, I went back up to the loft to get dressed. I changed from my pajamas straight into my swimsuit. There was no point in putting real clothes on if I was just going to swim soon enough.
I went downstairs, opened the sliding glass door, and was immediately greeted with a fresh, warm August breeze. The fresh air and smell of the tree sap filled my lungs. Refreshing. There, on the deck, on the huge array of outdoor furniture, I found my cousins. The sun hit our skin as we small talked, all of us yawning and still groggy after a late night.
I looked out at the lake, she was a beautiful greenish blue. She sparkled in the morning sunlight, looking smooth and calm. The tall evergreen trees were positioned ever-so perfectly around the perimeter of Florence Lake, squeezed in between many quaint lake houses like ours. Light brown wooden docks protruded into the lake at every house. Boats and jet skis hugged the docks, floating up and down with every wave.
***
As the sun shone brighter and the air got warmer, we decided it was time to get the day started. Down the huge staircase, we traveled from the deck to the yard, and from the yard to the dock.
Two of my cousins held hands as they jumped into the lake, making a loud splash and laughing as they swam back to the dock. My older cousin opened the garage door, revealing an age-old collection of water toys and fishing gear. It smelled like a lake in there, kind of old and musty, but oddly comforting. We all lined up to take our pick. I grabbed a floaty, my sister grabbed a paddle board.
It was hot on this summer day. I lathered my body with sunscreen before sinking into the hole of the floaty that lay on the smooth-as-glass water. What better way to beat the heat than to sit in the water all day? On days like these, the lake becomes inhabited quickly. Before you know it, kids are being pulled on the back of intertubes and people are fishing at their docks. The swimming hole across the lake is filled with laughter as people jump off the platform and slide down the huge, twirly slide. My ears are filled with boat motors starting up and the silly conversations between my sister and cousin as she teaches him how to balance on the paddle board.
My dad grabbed a kayak and said he was going around the lake. He wore a hat and a sun shirt, which made him look like he was afraid of the sun’s evil rays. My cousins and I, on the other hand, were happy the sun was out. It was time to get that summer vacation tan. As my dad paddled away in his kayak, we decided we wanted to go to the swimming hole. I begged Aunt Jaime to take us on the jet ski. She agreed. She didn’t want us swimming across the lake with all the boats in the water — it could be dangerous. How many cousins can you fit on a jet ski? We proved that you could fit quite a few.
“Holler when you’re ready to come back!” Jaime said as she whipped the jet ski back towards the house. There was a long distance between us and the cabin at this point, but due to the shape of the lake, and how it is sort of sunken down into the ground, the echoes made it possible to communicate with people at the cabin from the other side of the lake.
I looked across the lake at the timeless navy blue A-frame cabin. I could see my aunts and uncles laughing on the deck as they looked down at my grandma tanning on the dock. Seeing them relax and goof around made me realize that they were not too different from my cousins and me. They seemed like kids, carefree, and having a good time.
***
Located in the south Puget Sound lies the hidden gem that is Anderson Island. The small island is 7.75 square miles and is home to a little over 1,000 people. However, in the summer, the population rises to around 4,000. The only way to get to the island is by a 20-minute ferry that leaves from Steilacoom, WA. The island has become a popular retirement destination for Washingtonians due to its peaceful vibe and beautiful scenery.
My great-grandpa came into ownership of the Anderson Island cabin in the 80s after a customer couldn’t properly pay him. Property it was, instead of cash. The adults in my life have been coming to the cabin since then; it is a nostalgic place for them as it is for me.
The interior of our cabin is nothing special, it is not fancy, by any means. The appliances are out of date and the house layout is unusual. It is cluttered and gets messy fast, especially with so many people there at a time. The cabin is a collection of hand-me-down furniture and appliances that used to be in our homes.
The place is a time capsule, the walls littered with photos of old memories from the house. Photos from when my parents were college kids and from when my cousins and I were little kids. Not much has changed in the cabin over the years. It makes me nostalgic for a time I wasn’t even alive for. Taxidermy birds fly up the wall above the fireplace, while the rest of the walls are decorated with fishing-themed paintings. My grandpa’s paintings are framed and signed “Lynn, 1978,” reminding me of her creativity and love for Anderson Island over many years.
***
As my cousins splashed in the water, I thought about the memories the cabin holds for so many different generations in my family. I also thought about how hungry I had gotten after playing in the lake for so long.
“Jaime! Aunt Jaime! Mom!” we yelled together towards the house.
“Coming!” Jaime yelled back as she hopped on the jet ski to give us a lift back.
Before returning to the dock, we took a few laps around the lake on the intertube. I sat on the back of the jet ski, spotting my cousins on the tube and waving the bright orange flag when they would get whipped off. I screamed and held on tight as we bumped over the waves, making the tube, and the kids inside the tube, fly up in the air and then crash back onto the water. Jaime was the best jet ski driver, she was fast and crazy, just what us kids liked!
***
We got back, ate sandwiches on the deck, and sat in the sunshine, which would eventually dry us from all the lake water. On the island, there is only one store, which is a small general store-type place. My cousins and I decided to take our daily walk to the store after lunch. It’s only a .7 mile walk from the cabin, so I threw on denim shorts, slid my sandals on, and walked. We got chips, ice cream, iced tea, and some worms for fishing. We ventured back to the cabin through the lakeside neighborhoods and wooded trails. The island scenery screams Pacific Northwest.
That night Jaime made everyone teriyaki chicken burgers for dinner. We sat around the table on the deck, cracking jokes and enjoying each other’s company. I don’t even remember what we were laughing about, I just know my stomach hurt from laughing so much afterward.
By now the sun had begun to set. The golden hues of dusk made the ripples of water on the lake shimmer. She was the prettiest at this hour. The sky changed colors every minute, going from blue to pinkish-orange in no time. We toasted marshmallows at the bonfire, watching the last moments of daylight slip away from us. It got cooler out as the sun set, I snuggled up in a blanket with my cousin. What a perfect day it had been. It was days like these that made me wish every day was summer.
That night I went to bed, back up in the loft, surrounded by my cousins and sister. My skin was warm under the blankets after spending too much time under the scorching sun. I was rocked to sleep by the feeling of phantom waves like I was still on the water. My memories from all the years of coming to Anderson Island crashed in my mind like waves, then slowly pulled away giving room for the next memory to come to shore.
***
One of my favorite memories from Anderson Island was when we were kids, my older cousin bought all of the worms at the general store in hopes of catching a bass that he had seen around our dock. Despite his efforts, he was only catching tiny blue gill fish. In his frustration, he took a break from fishing.
During his break, my sister, an even younger and less experienced fisherman, wanted to give it a shot. She got out her dinky pink Barbie brand fishing pole and threw her line into the water. Not minutes later she felt a bite. Using all her strength, she reeled in the famous bass my cousin had been trying to catch all weekend.
To our surprise, a six-year-old with a Barbie fishing pole secured the catch of the day from Florence Lake.
***
Another time, when we were even younger, my cousin and I were woken up in the middle of the night in the bunk bed in the loft. We could hear our parents and grandparents downstairs screaming and moving around a lot. All of a sudden we saw a black figure with wings flying around the cabin.
“Birdie! Birdie!” we shouted with a thrill of excitement as this bird made our cabin its home.
My grandpa heard our giddy screams and came upstairs. Crouching beside the bed he said, “Girls that is no birdy, that is a bat.”
My cousin and I screamed with fear after this realization. Our parents stayed up, chasing this bat around until they eventually shooed it out of the door. Good riddance.
***
My least favorite island memory happened when I was fifteen years old, when we went to the island for Memorial Day Weekend. This time, my Aunt Jaime did not join us. The year prior, she had been diagnosed with breast cancer and things were going downhill. She stayed home in case she needed to be rushed to the hospital. It was different without her there.
“Stay outside, we need to talk in here,” my mom said as she closed the sliding glass door of the cabin. I was on the deck, alone, watching my sister and my cousins play in the sand below. It was at this very moment I faced the harsh reality of what was going on.
“Was Jaime going to die?” I thought, looking down on my older cousin, Jaime’s son.
This thought dawned on me for the first time at that moment. I couldn’t imagine life without her, a life where my cousin’s mom was gone. I assumed that’s what they were talking about inside. I prepared myself for the worst as we headed back home on Monday. The next day, Jaime passed away.
***
Nothing is the same without her around. She was a light in my family’s life. She brought joy and happiness, her smile was contagious. Many of my favorite memories about her are set at Anderson Island. She was closer to death than the rest of us, but she was the most full of life.
The memories I have of my Aunt Jaime are special to me. They are kept in the time capsule that is our Anderson Island cabin. Now and then I visit the cabin and it’s like I’m visiting her. At home, nothing is the same as when she was alive, but at Anderson Island, everything is preserved. It makes it easier to remember her and remember what it was like to have her around after all these years.
***
This past weekend I paid a visit to Anderson Island. It’s much different in February than it is in the summertime. The sky is cloudy instead of blue, it’s dreary outside. The whole island feels misty with the rain and the fog. The trees still loom over the lake. The lake is still beautiful. She remains a glassy, smooth soul of the island. I love the way it looks when she is rained on, how the raindrops hit her water. It is cold, and no part of me wants to go in the water like usual. Even inside the cabin, it was cold. So I curled up on the couch, looking out at the familiar scene in front of me.
The difference between Anderson Island in the summer and the winter feels like the difference between life with Jaime and life after her death. It used to be fun and lively, nothing was wrong. It was beautiful and it felt alive, much like watching the sunset over the lake while enjoying some of the best conversations with family. When the lake is scattered with people laughing and talking, it is alive in the summertime.
Now, it’s a bit colder, quite like this February. Things are still beautiful, they’re just blue. Covered in clouds and painted with memories of the past. There’s no one out on the lake. It’s quiet, it feels dull.
I found ways to enjoy myself at the cabin this weekend, just as I do with life after Jaime’s passing. It all just looked a little different than it did when the sun was out. It was slower and more reflective. I focused on the memories we made in the past instead of continuing to make them, as I inhabited the time capsule.