Maybe a Pond Would Do...

Like star-crossed lovers, our family and waterfront property prove destined to never meet. We fantasize about living on the blissful shores of a lake, peering out over shimmering waters and taking in the gentle breezes. We see ourselves swimming and boating and fishing and reveling like otter in the natural goodness of water-based living. But the reality is that like most folks, money and opportunity get in the way of our securing a spot on the lakefront. It’s not that we haven’t explored all our options.

“Where’s the lake?” we ask the real estate agent as we stand on high, dry ground.
“It’s right over there!”
“That’s not a lake,” we say, squinting. “That’s a pond.”
“There’s only one waterfront lot left,” warns the agent.
“Out of how many?”
“Uh, three.”
“Is there a limit on fish?”
“Well, if you catch both of them, it wouldn’t really be fair to the rest of the residents, now would it?”
“Do you have anything else?”
“That depends. Do you have a Swiss bank account?”

To our credit, which extends only so far, we have found a few places from time to time that meet our criteria, which are: on water that would fill more than a bathtub, priced within reason, and fixer-uppers are fine. But, we always seem to be a day late and a few thousand dollars too short. This, of course, isn’t the agent’s fault. Perhaps we should not want something just beyond our reach. But then, isn’t that how dreams operate?

We have pursued an abode near water for so long that even our kids can search Realtor.com and alert us to available waterfront real estate. Several years ago, after months of showing us potential properties, our real estate agent finally got it.

“You know, I’ll call you if what you need comes on the market, but don’t hold your breath.”
“Well, sure. Thanks for all your help. Remember, we’re not picky.”

We drove off to the sound of hysterical laughter or perhaps that of a real estate agent who has finally disposed of those time-sucking monsters they warn you about in “Impossible Clients 101.”

Fortunately, we love the home we have. It has everything we need, except the water, of course. So, when we have perused the market and come up empty once again, it’s nice to know that we have a place that suits us well.

I’ve tried to pinpoint what it is about lakefront living that appeals to us so. I grew up on the Coast, not on the water, but near enough that the drift of Gulf air always filled my lungs and offered a sense of place. My Aunt Ora and her friend Tommie live on the Biloxi River. Standing on the pier, watching mullet jump, I feel I’ve returned to the real world, the one with close-knit ties to my childhood. My husband moved from Maryland to Ocean Springs when he was a kid. Their house perched above a canal that they navigated on a big yellow boat, all the way out to the islands. Homes on the water simply hold a special, familiar appeal for us both.

All this may sound as if we are missing out on something vital. Not really. As long as the water is there, as long as fish, pelicans, frogs and turtles continue to thrive in their watery world, we are happy. We can always visit them. My favorite waterfront is always those places that remain undeveloped, where pitcher plants stand tall among buzzing dragonflies and minnows scurry in the shallows, where a single fisherman can perch quietly among the sycamores and drop a line from a cane pole, undisturbed.

But, we still like to look. There is always the possibility that one day, all the planets will align and the price will be right and the view will be such that there is no mistaking we have found a new home. It’s a good dream, one that I don’t mind revisiting when I am feeling landlocked and dusty. Or deeply homesick.

Maybe a pond would do, after all.