When I was in college, an English teacher had us write an essay titled“My Place of Grace.” The concept was simple: discuss a place that brings you at peace or just a place that you enjoyed being. That place, for me, was Lake Eufaula. 

That was probably 15 years ago; and Lake Eufaula is still “My Place of Grace.” My family has been going there since as far back as I can remember. My dad bought a mobile home for $3,000 that had been previously partially burned and placed it on two lots at White Oak Shores in Eufaula right next to my uncle’s place. Another uncle bought the lots on the other side of us and my great-uncle bought four lots across the dirt road. The whole corner of Otter Lane in White Oak Shores was nothing but Boutwells.

We spent more weekends – and sometimes entire weeks during the summer –- than I can even remember. My mom painted a huge mural with dinosaurs in one of the bedrooms for us kids. The community pool was maybe 100 yards from our front door. There was absolutely nothing more fun to me as a kid than jumping on the golf cart with my cousins and riding around the entire community there. 

Well, maybe there was one thing – jumping on the boat and cruising around Lake Eufaula. I’ve never been into fishing. It’s just not my thing, but there were many times when I would still go out on the lake with my dad and uncles when they would go fishing, just because I wanted to ride. My mom would do the same thing. Just sitting there, hearing the sound of the water splashing against pontoons, could put me to sleep. 

We had a firepit where everyone congregated at the end of the night. There were countless hours spent there telling stories with each other, some of which can’t be repeated here, around a fire. One of the swings was turned into an autograph collector. My cousins and I signed our names – as did any friends we brought with us – on that swing until you couldn’t see anything but our names. 

Now, my wife – and her family – enjoy coming out just as much as the rest of us ever did. I don’t think that will ever change for me but things at the lake have certainly changed. We definitely don’t get to go as much as we’d want to, life gets in the way of all of the fun things. That old $3,000 mobile home has survived three trees falling on it and a scammer “renovating” some of the damage.

Most of my family doesn’t get to go up there – or can’t – anymore either. Last time we were there, I walked up to that old swing and rubbed the only remaining name you can see. The sun has faded the names almost completely off, which almost matches the way time has faded away some of the people that are no longer here that used to sit in that swing. 

My mom is gone; one of my cousins is gone; my great-uncle is gone; one of my uncles and his wife are gone. Sitting back in that old swing, wishing all of those people could be sitting around a fire with me again, I realized while things will never be the same, they can still be oh so sweet. 

This time last year, I sat in the same swing and wondered how many more times I’d get to do that at all. Cancer is a monster, a scary monster. No matter how treatable doctors tell you it is, it will scare the life out of you. So, I’m going to enjoy every single moment I get to make new memories in “My Place of Grace” just as much as I cherish all those old ones. 

I’m going to enjoy every single moment I ride one of those dirt roads, take a look at those monster alligators at the Gator Stop, eat some of that glorious “crusty bread” at Cajun Corner, grab a couple of donuts from the Donut King, ride on that old pontoon boat, play a card game with my in-laws that has some of the edgiest jokes you’ll ever hear, grill with my dad or just sit back and do absolutely nothing with my best friend, my wife. Everyone needs their own “Place of Grace.”