Remember those first memories of sunbeams across your face like a silk scarf gracing your cheeks?
The dock, so close you can hear the fish tempting you to join them in their graceful swan dives through the crystal clear waters of Long Lake.
The kids, bound to car seats for all 11 hour stint, push their feet into the sand to stretch out their arms and legs toward the horizon.
The air, so clean, so free, a respite location in a corner of the Earth that is shielded from the unfortunate truths of how we've injured the precious planet. Shielded from the too busy, too late, too much to do day to day that grinds on us throughout the year.
And respite is what we crave, away from all that drives us to produce more, to do more, to achieve more on all fronts. Here we sit, we relax. We dive into books, we play board games without a notion of time or days, because the family we are with are the only indicators we need for if and how we've had success since the last sunrise.
It is the lake house. The place held precious in our memories. The place made of sandy dreams, epicurean delights, hugs and heartfelt shared stories that will forever cement what family is in all of our hearts.
And so, in 2015 we came back, as we always do. The sandy beach calling our names to find our place nestled next to the campfire, beer in hand, sunset behind us and the gentle lap of the waves to lull us to a place of peace and gratitude.
Here we are, at the lake house, once more.
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