I discovered my happy place in Maine. I had occasion to go back to the state of my birth during the summer a few times a few years ago.

I’m sure I’ve said it before but I hate summer because I hate heat and humidity. I usually spend June through August dreaming of October and flannel. It took me a very long time to like summer, summer vacations, and the beach. It’s still hard sometimes but I’m pretty much there.

It’s the end of July and growing up this would be the time that I would be in the Poconos with my mother and my cousins from Atlanta at a place called Lake Harmony. We rented a cottage across the street from the lake (that’s what we called it “the lake”) and fought with each other for a week. My mother and Cousin Donna would fight over whatever their kids had done. We would fight with our mothers about not going to play mini golf or the arcade at the nice hotel up the street. We fought with each other over Wiffle Ball.

This is where the Wonder Years voice kicks in and says, “They were the best times of my life.”

Eh, not really.

I love my cousins and it was the only time I really ever got to see them but it wasn’t a relaxing time. And I’m just not a Poconos fan. The Poconos are like a nicotine stained Cape Cod.

Anyway, as I was saying, I never really liked getting away until recently.

I spent today on a pontoon boat on Lake Anna in Virginia with my girlfriend, her mother, and sister. The water was warm and it was fun cruising around the lake, checking out all the houses and docks, and seeing all the little islands in the coves.

I’m realizing that I’ve set this up talking about family and friends so the reveal of my happy place is going to be a big, somewhat selfish let down.

Like when I was in Maine, we had inflatable rafts, and as I got in the water, jumped up in a raft and asked for a beer, I remembered, “oh yeah, this is it, this is my happy place.”

I can console myself with the fact that a happy place is a luxury concept to begin with. At least I’m not telling you it’s a tropical beach or something. It’s just floating on water, in a raft (preferably in the style of an inner tube), with a beer in my hand.

When I was in the Poconos when I was a kid, I think that I was so eager to do something and not just relax. I don’t recall “relaxation” being a big part of adolescent life. We just confused it for boredom. As an adult, I can appreciate it. It’s simple. Surround yourself with some good people, get a beer (if that’s your thing), and just float.