Skinny Dipping
by Linda McKenney

We are a water family. My parents took us on frequent picnics to lakes in the Adirondacks. We’d go early in the morning, and my father would cook bacon and eggs on a camp stove. That delicious aroma mingled with the scent of the pine needles that made a soft cushion under our bare feet.

The forest gave way to a sandy beach, where I have fond memories of swimming with my siblings. We’d all take turns jumping off of my father’s shoulders into the clear, cold water. I still prefer swimming in a lake over a pool.

My mother always packed a huge lunch, and after eating we were forced to wait the obligatory one hour before reentering the lake, lest we sink to the bottom. I did this with my children as well until I discovered it wasn’t necessary.

When my parents retired and moved to Florida, they’d rent a camp for the summer when they returned to New York. We had great family gatherings with all of us and our children. Once the kids were settled in for the night, my mother, sisters and I would skinny dip in the dark, sensuous water.

On a recent family vacation in the Adirondacks. My sisters and I regaled all of my grandchildren with stories of our past skinny dipping experiences.

“Once,” my sister told them, “my clothes were gone when I came out of the water. “

The grandkids were aghast. “What did you do?”

“Someone came to my rescue with a robe.”

For the rest of the week, the kids took note of where we all were if they were going down to the lake at night. They were all in terror of the possibility of seeing any one of us naked.

I can’t say that I blame them.

IMAGE: Vintage postcard, “Sunset on Utowana Lake” (Adirondack Mountains, New York).

Mckenney Waiting to swim

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Linda McKenney is a Personal Life Coach, Motivational Speaker, and Writer, specializing in Mindful Living and Eating. Her creative nonfiction is published in Silver Birch Press, 101 Word Short Stories, The Survivor’s Review, and Helen: A Literary Magazine.  She also has an alter ego at Susanbanthony.live.

AUTHOR’S PHOTO CAPTION: Me waiting to swim after lunch, before I knew you didn’t have to wait an hour