My dearest "Up North,"
You are the nostalgic imagery of my childhood. You are the "safe place" that I run to mentally when my life these days is a little too overwhelming. You are beloved storybooks like The Legend of Sleeping Bear. You are convenience store kites on windy piers. You are out-of-service lighthouses that I'll never not want to climb. You are floating calmly atop a cold, still surface. You are the feel of an ocean without the salt staining my skin or the sharks scaring me to shore. You are one-of-a-kind ice cream stands and quirky beach cafés. You are sunsets that are worth watching. You are wildflowers and fields that never end who's owners are unknown. You are forest trails and black bears and hidden creeks. You are frigid river currents that I would willingly permit to carry me all the way out to the middle of the Great Lake Michigan itself. You are family cottages and 2:00 A.M. campfires. You are weekend getaways and a winter's bittersweet dream, and every moment I spend in your presence I am instantly reminded of how important it is to take time to be calm, to be comfortable, to be safe, to be free.
I have spent nearly every summer of my life in your vast territory. When I was a little girl I would run down your dirt paths in my bare feet and swim suit. I would eat grilled hot dogs and mac and cheese for lunch every day, and I would fall asleep to the sound of crickets and crackling embers every night. Going to visit you meant s'mores, sand dunes, big ferry boats, cold waves, tiny fish, Petosky stones, family-owned farms, summer markets, fireworks, birch trees, my favorite picture book collection and every other minute detail that fascinated me in my youth and doesn't cease to fascinate me today. You were heaven on earth for all my five year old self knew, and hell, you still are.
You are the place where time stops. You are the place where the wideness of the water and the bigness of the sky put my stresses into perspective. You remind me that the world is giant and I'm still just a lil' kid trying to figure it out. You reassure me that it's okay to take time to put life on pause and that it's okay to step back from the hustle and bustle and let nature work its magic. You give me repose and renewal, and you bring people, often warring and absorbed in their own day-to-day stresses, together, even if only for a weekend.
You keep the child spirit inside me alive as society forces me to grow older. I thank you for your sanctuary, and I am eager for my next visit.
Yours in harmony and appreciation,
Sara
