The fishermen are gone. Early risers anticipating a long day on the water. It is 5:30 a.m. Sleep will not return. A thousand stars light up the night sky. The little cottage is still. The aroma of fresh brewed coffee beckons, a gift from the fishermen. The glow from the little heater in the corner lights my way.
Sitting quietly in the dark I offer my thanks for the sleeping children in the next room; for the cousins heading north on the Interstate in search of Steel Head Trout; making a memory.
The sky is beginning to lighten. The silver glow of the lake is now visible in the pre-dawn light. My stomach rumbles its rebellion from a day of over indulgence. Soon there will be footsteps and giggles as the second generation of cousins prepares for a trip to the theater. From 3 to 14 they sense the bond of family.
Life is good.
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