42 Steps - porch to pier

I love living at the lake! I always wanted to wake up to cool air bouncing off the water as it lapped up against the dock. The first cup of coffee in the morning is almost like good sex but sipping that first cup out on the pier while the sun lazily breaks through the dawn--there is no description for it.

This morning, the sun hadn't quite come up and neither had the neighbors so the air was a little cool, for Alabama, and very quiet. The water was like glass. The smell of coffee filled the kitchen and wafted into the Florida room that faces the lake. That Florida room is filled with wicker furniture and surrounded by large, pane glass windows. Perfect.

Yesterday, my sister and I pulled the green loungers from the screened front porch and carried them down to the dock. Counting the steps to the dock, it was 42 from the last step off the porch to the first step up on the weathered wood. We sat out sipping sweet tea and chatting about nothing. Occasionally a boat would tool by. And every so often, we could hear the sound of carp cut across the lake as they jumped and splashed.

I may never want to leave.