Some people picture their ideal home tucked into the mountains. Others want a long gravel driveway with fields on either side, or enough woods that they can’t see the neighbors. Around the Reservoir, plenty of us understand the appeal of those places. We’d just like to know how far they are from the water.
There’s something about living near the Ross Barnett Reservoir that becomes part of how we spend our days. We take the route with a view, even if it adds a few minutes. We notice when the water is perfectly still or when the wind has it worked up. An ordinary drive home turns into a stop for a sunset photo, joining the other hundred sunset photos already on our phones. Somehow, this one looks a little different.
You don’t have to own a boat or live on the shoreline to feel that connection. For some, it’s fishing before the day gets busy. For others, it’s walking near the water, watching sailboats from a restaurant patio, or finding a place to sit where there isn’t much that needs doing. You may spend the entire afternoon accomplishing absolutely nothing and still feel like it was time well spent.
And yet, when spring and summer arrive, where do so many of us want to go? The beach. Apparently, living near 33,000 acres of water leaves us wanting to check on some more water. We pack the car, drive south, and settle into a chair facing the Gulf as though we haven’t seen a shoreline in months.
Of course, the beach feels different. There’s salt in the air, sand in everything, and waves you can hear with your eyes closed. There’s also the advantage of being away from the laundry, the yard, and whatever project has been waiting since March. But the way we arrange ourselves is familiar. Give us a chair and a view of the water, and we generally know what to do.
That raises another question: Are we drawn to other people who feel the same way?
It seems possible that some friendships around here get a head start from that shared interest. An invitation to get out on the boat doesn’t require much explaining. Neither does wanting to stay a little longer because the sunset is about to get good. Someone else understands why you’re perfectly happy sitting on a dock with no particular plan, and being together doesn’t require a full afternoon of entertainment.
Shared places give us reasons to meet, too. We see the same people at a boat ramp, along a walking route, or at a favorite spot overlooking the Reservoir. A conversation starts with whether the fish are biting or whose boat just went by. After enough of those conversations, we know names. Eventually, we notice when someone hasn’t been around.
That doesn’t mean everyone who loves the water has the same personality. The person looking for a quiet cove and the one arriving with a floating party may have a few things to negotiate. But they both chose to spend their Saturday out here. That’s at least something to work with.
For those of us who call the Reservoir home, the appeal can be hard to explain without sounding like we’re trying to sell somebody a house. We still have traffic, bills, mosquitoes, and work in the morning. We just like having the water nearby while we deal with all of it. And when friends suggest meeting somewhere with a view of it, we rarely need to think very long.
Did the water bring you to the Reservoir, or did living here turn you into a water person? And when you plan a vacation, do you find yourself heading for another shoreline?
