A few weeks ago, my fellow columnist, Phyllis Mata, wrote a nostalgic piece about leaving their vacation place on a beautiful lake in North Louisiana. Her words painted a picture of serenity where she and her husband had spent much needed R&R getting away from it all.

As I read her words, I realized that our lives were taking a similar path. We have been weekend residents of the small fishing and boating community of Cypremort Point since 1982. In the nearly 40 years’ time we’ve lived there, we’ve enjoyed a variety of activities with two generations of family, friends, and changing neighbors. Somehow we have managed to stay the course.

In the beginning, we shared ownership of the small, blue cabin on Hammock Lane on Cypremort Bayou with Butch and Pam Thornton and their children on alternating weekends. There was never a quarrel over groceries, fishing gear, or finances in all the years we enjoyed that arrangement before they found their own piece of paradise just down the road.

When we first bought the building, a former barber shop that had been carefully moved out there from nearby New Iberia, it had been gutted, and was barely livable. But it had a water well and an air conditioner, so we set about to fix it up and make improvements. Before there was even a kitchen, Pam and I barbecued outside and washed dishes in a bucket! It was really camping for us city folks, but we were young and full of ideas on how to make it comfortable. Slowly but surely, that happened. We got indoor plumbing, and finished walls and floors. It was all sweat equity because the work was done by my husband, Isby, and our partner, Butch, with friends and family pitching in as needed.

Over the nearly four decades, neighbors on Hammock Lane came and went. Each brought friendliness and sometimes food. It was a close community up and down the little lane. None was better than Z.T. and Jeannie Landrum, a retired couple from Lafayette. We fished and shrimped from our boat, took relaxing “booze cruises” at sunset, and waited on their little dock for others from the block to join us.

Our children grew up and married, then they returned with their own kids to share in the fun. Now the great grandchildren drop in. Boy, time has flown!

Now in the 39th year, we are about to close up the camp for the last time. We leave a lot behind. Pictures on the walls and fishing rodeo trophies attest to the many fun times we’ve had. (I’ve kept a journal of the early years as the camp developed to what it is today. I’m so glad I took the time to record each small step as it was made.)

Visions of old and new friends who have been part of this journey are popping up in my thoughts today. Richard and Sandra Legnon, along with his father and mother, ran the small store and bait shop for decades and offered fishing tips when we were novices. The family down the street from Baton Rouge brought special beer because they knew my husband was fond of it.

More recent memories include the neighbors who seem to appear from nowhere to help when needed, especially after a hurricane, to clean up debris. David Fleming has helped us to carry our goods and luggage up the stairs as it’s gotten harder as we have aged.

So, in retrospect, it’s not the fresh seafood dinners that we will remember, but the people with whom we have shared the catch … the sunsets on the deck under the oak trees … and the fish stories that were exchanged.

Soon we will turn over the keys to some lucky, younger family and wish them good luck, good memories, and good friends to go with them.

JULAINE DEARE SCHEXNAYDER is retired after a varied career in teaching and public relations. Her email address is julaines14@gmail.