Just Keep Swimming...

Sometimes its a smell, other times its a feeling, but traveling to northern Michigan always sends me right back to the happiest memories of my childhood. Camping, reveling lakeside, enjoying Michigan's great lakes, building sand castles on the beach, spending hour upon hours outside until the last ember of the last log has faded into a glimmer of the wonderful day behind me. Its difficult to capture the sense that thinking about summer vacation at the lake gives me. I hang on to it as the epitome of childhood, the times when we as kids, were able to be our truest selves, running around in the sand, swimming along the beach, doing nothing but inventing each moment from one to the next. Remembering my childhood at the lake brings about a sense of refreshing renewal, but also an incredibly sentimental and nostalgic cloud that seems to shadow any other possible perception about the lake and cottage. There could have been a serial killer at the lake, but I would never have known or ever remembered anything to that effect. Its too pure of a memory to be tainted.

I feel as though this effort is like Finding Nemo, only we're (I'm) searching for the recreating of memories of the cottage buried deep within Michigan's northern lake sides. Nemo, a little clown fish on his way to the more exciting and happier world finds himself content to be at home where the memories of his mother, his life with friends and his world are comforting- but he doesn't arrive at this conclusion before exploring the greater world. So maybe I'm Nemo, out trying to find the elusive perfect location to again start building those cottage memories.

This year we were able to take Collin with us for our second annual (second with intentions of 50 or so) summer lake house visit. This trip was incredibly nostalgic, important and exciting all at the same time. Now that Collin is 1, and observing the world around him at lightening pace, this trip would provide the first opportunity for him to see summer on the lake in Michigan as I had.

As a kid, I loved the lakes of Michigan. I loved every moment of the time we spent there- I can still smell the inside of our camper, still see me and my cousins-the Astropops in one hand with a box of popcorn in the other as we raced back to the beach after a quick treat to continue our sand castle masterpieces. I still, to this day, inhale campfire deeply, sucking it into my bones, reawakening the immense sense of home I get from visiting the lake house, the campground, the cottage...wherever our boots landed us that particular year. Never too far from the shores of Higgins Lake and never the same experience twice. I've dug through some family photos, and here are those very moments that I cherish so deeply, captured in time.
Back in the 80s my grandparents used to rent a cabin on Higgins Lake, owned by some friends of theirs, for the week so that their entire family (don't get too excited,there were only 10 of us at the time) could create the particular moments I sound fondly remember together. I'm so thankful that they are captured on camera so that year after year I can reaffirm the love I have not only in my memories, but in concrete proof that families can and do thrive on the kind of love that emanates from trips like these. Its that particular thought that makes me anxiously anticipate the future for our family, so that when my kids are older they can look back on our trips to Michigan with the same tenderness and nostalgia that I have of my childhood cottage, camping and lake house experiences.

This year our trip took us away from Higgins Lake, as the cottage has long been sold and is now both not for rent, and incredibly too small for our growing family. Higgins Lake itself, meaning sparkling water, is just that. The lake is about 4 miles wide by about 7 miles long and has miles and miles of soft sandy beaches with crystal clear water and clean sandy beaches that slowly meanders out from the shore, making it a fantastic location for swimming.
As we daydreamed about what it would take to get to Higgins, we found ourselves renting a cottage on Chandler Lake, a mere 5 minutes from Traverse City, where as an adult I've created many fantastic memories. This particular year I was challenged with a cognitive conundrum, trying to relate my childhood memories to a location that had been entirely created in memories of my adulthood. Truth be told, I LOVE Traverse City. Its an AMAZING location. The water is almost tropical, its so clear and beautiful in the Grand Traverse Bay, and the area is peppered with amazing shopping, terrific beaches and loads of local vineyards with DELICIOUS wines. BUT, it doesn't speak to me like Higgins when I think about what I want for Collin. Collin doesn't particularly care about the shopping, the wine, the great food or the serenity of the bay. He'll care about the sand in his toes, the temperature of the water, the spray that comes from the dogs tails as they try to lure him away from his toys, only for a moment, to begin a game of hide and seek.
Not to be undersold, Chandler lake was a wonderful week and the contentedness I felt there, staring at the lake, with a glass reflection of the millions of stars, was almost palpable. It took less than a day for me to find myself entering the twilight zone known as "the cottage". Its almost hypnotic, but in the most sincere and accepting way- I was ready to be here and took on the the cottage quickly and effortlessly. On the second day I was spending my time (sans internet) thinking about boating, what to eat for lunch, and how many books I'd be able to read, and that, dear friends was the content of my brain. It was fantastic. No work-related stress, no pressure of chores, maintenance, or scheduling. Our biggest issues were how to straddle nap times with not one, but at least two trips to the sand and lake shore. I dropped technology like a hot potato, wished the TV would disappear directly out of the cottage and brought out board games to entertain us. Many games of Mancala, Scrabble, Scattergories, Sequence and Cranium later, I found myself right back in the heart of Higgins lake family serenity. This was the cottage, and as it turned out, it didn't matter where we were actually located geographically, we were making do, and providing Collin with hours of entertainment and memories, much like Higgins Lake.


As it turns out, without even trying we've recreated some of the best photographs from my childhood with Collin. We've already begun the process of instilling him the importance of removing oneself from the claws of societal strain and immersing oneself in the joys of nature and family. We spend a significant amount of time outside, we enjoy nature and we hope that it rubs off on him. We want him to swim like a fish, play in the mud and hike through the hills with confidence, but also reckless abandon.





Next year, we've finally made a reservation that puts us at a cottage on Higgins Lake. I won't lie, I do expect this cottage to be the place. The place where Collin starts to really remember the small piece of happiness our family has strung together, a string of thoughts, feelings, smells, intensities, that some day will become a necklace of the lakes of Michigan.
I'm anxious for next summer already, but also poised the chart new territory as Collin finds his own ways to make the lake a special place for himself.

Our time this year left quite a trail of activities to be topped next year- we at a ridiculous amount of perfectly toasted marshmallow (thanks mom), we went bike riding, we went swimming, we kayaked in the Grand Traverse Bay, we went shopping and at at delicious restaurants. We watch the sunset over the lake, counted to stars and made our way to bed much too late, to give up on rising far too early for a days filled with relaxation, naps, and food.
Oh boy, was there food. If nothing else, my family intends to make all who attend are fed, and not just fed, but well fed. Every day was a buffet of flavors, fresh farmers market finds, old family recipes and more cookies, treats and brownies than you could shake a stick at. Margaritas at noon, bloodymarys in the mornings and beer and wine at night served my family well, and before we knew it the week was coming to a close.
All too soon I was already missing Traverse City, missing the lake house, wondering what lucky family is inhabiting it now, enjoying the same summer view. I miss my family, I miss the connection that the memories I was so excited to recreate represent, but most of all I miss being together, because together, no matter where we are, things are perfect. As it turns out, I'm still following Nemo's path. So, until next year we'll just keep swimming.