It was the lake. It wasn't lonely.
I went to get away from everything. Even her. She was jealous of my connection to it. Whenever I needed a rest, I would go to find peace floating among the waves.
It created tension between us. Repeatedly.
"You're going there again, are you?" she'd say. "I won't bother waiting."
It wasn't until our 23rd year, after the last of our kids left home, that she passed.
I was free. Free to go to my lake. Without reproach. Yet I didn't feel free.
There was no one to come back to. The house was silent. Hollow. The kids didn't call. They were busy.
There was nothing. Except the lake.
I cursed it. For all the years I could have spent with her, I took her for granted. I wasted my time at the damned lake.
Yet I could go back to nothing. So I went to the lake. Out on the waters, searching for peace. To find only cold and resentment.