Lake of My (Childhood) Dreams

Remember when you were a child and the world was your playground?  Where the trees and the flowers were your imaginary friends and nothing could go wrong?

When I was a kid, I was left to my own devices a lot.  Circumstances had it that though three and a half years separated me from my brother he was already in high school by the time I reached grade 3.  Also my family was living in the exclusive housing community for the executives of Del Monte and there were not many children of my age.  For four years of my primary schooling, there were only two of us in the class.. and my one and only (classmate) lived in Bugo, Cagayan de Oro.

So my love for everything green and flowing developed.  In particular, fresh bodies of water-- whether they be lakes, rivers, creeks, ponds...  There was a man-made lake just across my house.  All it took was five minutes brisk walking or 10 minutes strolling straight across three fairways of the Del Monte Golf Course.  There my imagination flourished.  One day I'd be a ballerina accepting flowers from an adoring fan; the next I'd be an Olympic swimmer winning the gold; on another I'd win an all-expense paid trip to England to meet my favorite band (at the time) Duran Duran.  It was also at the lake where I learned how to prepare a fish hook with live worms and fill my bare hands with mud in search for mudfish.  It was here I learned to to enjoy the feel of fresh, cold, flowing water as it tumbled over my dirty fingers from playing.  Then one rainy summer afternoon, when my brother was home and there was nothing to do, a group of us varied-aged kids dared to be adventurous.  What was the adventure?  Who was brave enough to swim in the lake?

In the first place, the mere act was prohibited by our parents, for the reason that it was dangerous (there was no lifeguard so we could drown, get caught in the weeds and drown, get caught in the mud and drown).  Secondly, nobody had done it before and it was like we would be making history.  So the bigger kids went ahead and the younger ones tagged along, excited yet hesitant to even think of breaking the rules. My brother and Susan (an American varsity student, also home for the holidays) dove right in and dared each other in a race to the dock at the far end.  Some of the boys jumped in and splashed around near the shore, dunking each other and enjoying some rough play.  The younger girls, myself included, tentatively let ourselves in, feeling the mud squish between our little toes.

Ah, memories...