Wyola

Submerging in water feels like washing away reality. As the cool currents lap against my body my temperature begins to cool and match that of the soft shifting waters surrounding me. As a child I lived in Massachusetts and went to Lake Wyola every day. My mother, brother, and I would make our way down our dirt driveway, dust flying around our feet, and onto the thick black tar that sliced through the surrounding forest.
As a young adult this lake still draws me in. But is much more crowded than when I was a child. There are more children, more brightly colored towels, and more plastic buckets lining the shore. I took my niece there over the summer. She is four and has spent barely any time in the water. But, while fascinated by water, my niece is rather afraid of swimming. It took me half an hour of cajoling to convince her to put her face in the water and blow bubbles. Then less than five minutes later, we were told to exit the water. The lake had not passed its algae test. Within minutes the crowds that had previously been splashing in the water disappeared into their minivans, and my niece and I started our trek back home and to the bathtub.