Surrounded by the lake, no soaking clothes glued to my skin
Just the ice cold water hugging me tightly.
The sound of the small lake waves lapping against the tiny, brown beach
Aside from my splashing and the occasional birds in the woods
Was the only thing that pierced the quiet of a silent, cloudy day.
The air was cold but the water was colder,
A frigid blanket hiding whatever lurked below.
The joy on my face was undeniable
Despite hidden under the tendrils of the loose strands of my ******* hair.
The New York mountain air combined with the lake scent
Despite the cold July afternoon
Undeniably smelled like summer.
Freshwater smells different than saltwater,
Like sugar cookies baking instead of chocolate chip.
And the taste of those freshwater summer sugar cookies
Are a taste I refuse to forget.