When I feel waves within myself, I go to the lake. If I’m anxious or depressed, I go to the lake. If we break up & you feel like you need some closure, find me at the lake. My world could be crashing down around me & all I want is choppy waves and the faint scent of dead fish and by faint I mean piercing.

My goal is to become one of those self proclaimed “beach bums”, minus the Etsy sign above the front door that says “Life is better in my flip flops”. I never understood the desire to decorate your beach house to let people know you love the beach. We get it, you have a flush 401K.

I’ll wear some knock off Ray-Bans, have a word search in hand, and carry a blue folding beach chair with sturdy straps, which will be good for my back because in this scenario I’m sixty years old & living in a house from one of Diane Keaton’s movies.

For now, I sit on the sand or a bench or the cracked concrete, watching the cool water pool below in the spaces between. In the summer, I meditate. It’s also where I talk to God. The universe. I think of it as the halfway point for us to meet, like a roadside diner with notably good coffee. 

Lake Michigan brings the never-ending board meeting in my brain to a halt. Everyone takes five, thank you five. The waves are never perfect, never in formation, and forever in motion. It mesmerizes me like muted Maury reruns in patient waiting rooms.

No matter what time of day it is, the water will always be there. No matter the sadness or anger rumbling inside of me. No matter the churning uncertainty in stomach. The water doesn’t care. Has no agenda. It’s humbling. Quiet. All the small pools inside me lie still with the exception of one leaf crusted with Fall, spinning idly. As though he’s the only one that can feel the breeze.

The lake—I’m a big fan.

About the artist...

Sarah McCarten is a Chicago-based actor, comedian, and writer. She is currently in The Second City's Conservatory Program. A graduate of Columbia College Chicago, she can be seen around the city making jokes and telling stories.