She was staring hard at 15, talking about driving and getting way ahead of herself on this road of life. She’s the last one to be with us at our one-week-in-August-lake-house, the youngest of our combined families and the one that’s been tagging along more than her memory recalls.
We’ve been ten years in the same house, the glory house because glory shown down on us the day my sister-in-law found this one and locked us in with a “Just roll our deposit over every year” talk with the realtor.
There have been other houses in our string of annual pilgrimages to this respite from the heat of most of the south.
There were the houses without air conditioning that sounds lovely for a week in the mountains but really is just insane for anywhere in the summer. We need to sleep at night people!
The one that nearly pushed us over the edge was the “Rainbow House”. Rental houses in that area are named and Lord only knows why that house carried that name because we would have named it the Dust Bowl or the “Are you kidding me?” house. Maybe the “House where rust water comes out of the bathtub faucet” house. Or the, “That’s NOT a sleeping porch. It’s just a screened in porch with NASTY CANVAS FOR SHADE!”
This place is our memory maker place. Every year our two families (one year 5 families combined) make the trek and live under one roof together, visiting the same potter and fudge shop a few towns over and ordering homemade pies from the same orchard.
Traditions are made when the youngest one says, “We always go to…..” even though last year was the first time but you go again.
That’s how we stumbled on Clyde’s.
The youngest was the only one left with the grownups that summer. The two men left for an early round of golf and she decided we should go to breakfast. We found Clyde’s diner across from the newly built Wal-Mart Super-center.
It was our second or third year of pulling into Clyde’s when we saw the message on their sign: “Closed for vacation”. I’m sorry, WHAT? Do places do that? Yes, in the little town of Waynesville, North Carolina, they do.
We found another place that isn’t as memorable as Clyde’s blueberry pancakes. We hoped we’d not meet that misfortune again.
This year we did a preliminary drive-by to head off any possible disappointment and there it was, a beautiful sight: