With Sally on Candlewood Lake

One day at the tail end of June it is steadily bright and balmy; a welcomed change after several weeks of sudden storms. It’s been the kind of weather that can’t make up its mind: gleaming sunshine one moment, rain the next. An apt metaphor (unfortunately) for how I’ve been feeling as of late.

The gloominess of outside gives me the opportunity to hunker down and self-soothe in an attempt to fix my gloomy mental state. I catch up on my reading and tv shows, cook myself nourishing meals, rest. Nothing seems to be doing the trick. Thankfully the weather app shows nothing but sunshine starting in just a few more days; I look forward to these days, and knowing that they’ll be filled with some much needed Sally time.

On Wednesday night I pack a bag and head to Sally’s apartment in Greenpoint for a sleepover before we venture out to Candlewood Lake in the morning. The house that Sally’s family owns on Candlewood is lovely, calming and quaint, and spending time there with my dear friend is one of the great joys of summer. I’m grateful that she has invited me to this happy place at a time when, unbeknownst to her, I need it the most.

Before drifting off to sleep, we make our plan for the morning: leave early so that we can enjoy a full day in the sun, and stop for bagels before the drive. Sally, like me, gets immense pleasure out of what she eats in a day, and is always thinking about what deliciousness awaits her next. Dreaming about the freshly baked everything bagels with cream cheese we’ll have upon awakening, we rest.

Along the drive it’s a bit cloudy, but the day is young. We devour our bagels and slurp our iced drinks (coffee for Sally, matcha for me), listen to the new Arlo Parks album, and gab the whole way. The sun begins to peak out of the clouds, and I feel my mood brightening with the sky.

Out on the dock I am filled with so much warmth — from the sun, from sweet Sally’s presence, from the beautiful scenery, and from the comforting lunch right in front of us: fried chicken from the Big Y in town, a Candlewood ritual; succulent mango slices; sweet yellow cherry tomatoes; and crisp, salty potato chips. This kind of bounty after a long swim in the lake feels like a holy experience.

Once I’m done with my plate I’m covered in chicken grease and mango juice, so I jump in the lake to wash off. The water is cool and cleansing on my skin. I float in it for a long time, hoping it’ll also wash away all of my lingering grief.

Eventually I pull myself out of the lake and plop down on my towel next to Sally. We quietly read our novels, and in between chapters we nap.

I’m having a wonderful time with one of my favorite people in one of my favorite places, but still I cannot escape my heartache. I’ve spent the whole day fighting to ignore the painful feelings sitting heavy on my chest, but now it was beginning to clog up inside of me, and I had to release it. And who better to lean on than to Sally? One of my longest, dearest friends. A deeply compassionate, thoughtful, loving person who I’m lucky to be so close with. Venting to her feels very cathartic in this moment. A weight is suddenly lifted off my chest. She listens to me closely, holds my hand, truly empathizes. Having this kind of love and support offered to me is such a blessing.

For a while we get lost in a morbid, existential conversation: the poisonous air quality that’s been terrifying us, death of loved ones. We decide we’ve had enough of the depressing talk and make a quick move to switch it up, put smiles back on our faces. I feel at ease, fully, since I’d opened up to my wise, beautiful friend. The sky was completely cloudless and the sun was glorious. Sally said she felt like a cider, and I was with her.

We crack open the cold, sweet beverages, and sip them as we bask in the late day sunshine. We swim some more and soon enough our tummies are hungry once again. The day has completely drained us, but in that satisfying, nourishing way sun and swimming will do. It’s time to make our way inside the house for showers and snacks.

After we finish our showers — sundrunk, pajamas commenced — Sally says she’s going to make a cheeseboard. The sound of this elates me — one thing about Sally is that she’s going to craft a gorgeous cheeseboard. This one is a bountiful spread of manchego, pepperjack, crackers, jam, figs, and some more of those sweet tomatoes, paired with a refreshing rosé. Together we enjoy the course on the back patio as we look beyond at the lake; it is a dreamy golden hour well spent. It goes on like this for several hours, until we realize it has fallen dark. Tummies hungry again. Exhausted. Thank goodness for frozen taquitos. We cook some up and eat them with a cold avocado until we are nice and full. In classic Sally fashion, she suggests we watch a rom-com and eat ice cream on the couch. It’s the perfect ending to this lovely day.