The Lake

We went camping over Spring Break up to Canyon Lake. It was beautiful, not too hot, not too cold. The kids played in the lake, caught tiny fish, and enjoyed the company of friends who went with us. All in all it was a good time.
It reminded me of the first time I saw Canyon Lake, a lake I didn't even know existed until I was 19 years old. My then boyfriend wanted to take me up to Tortilla Flats for lunch. I hadn't heard of it, but thought it might be interesting to visit an old west town, seeing as I had lived in Arizona my whole life and had never seen one.
I rode on the back of his motorcycle driving down the 60, going so fast I feared for my life. He says he was doing the speed limit, but on the back of a bike with nothing to hang onto but him, it felt like 100.
We took the exit to Apache Junction, the furthest east I had ever been besides my Grandma's house. As we entered the Tonto National Forest, the road started to get steep and curvy. He said this was the best part of the ride, leaning from side to side on his bike going up and down the mountain's edge. At least he wasn't driving fast, I thought. I remember hiding my head in the back of his black leather jacket, not wanting to look at the oncoming traffic that veered so eerily close to us.
We came up to the top of a mountain and that's when I saw it. A lake in the middle of the desert! I asked him later about it, couldn't believe I didn't know about it. There were boaters, fishers, skiiers, tanners. All these people who had discovered this little enclave. I felt like I had been missing out on something fabulous my entire life.
We drove past it to the restaurant. We had lunch, and I remember he left a big tip. He loved this little place, and I figured out a lot about him that day. He liked the old west, motorcycle rides, impressing his lady, and me holding on to him.
He's brought me back to the lake a few times since. And I realized I had been missing out on something fabulous, but it wasn't the lake. It was him.