We arrive at the cottage after a 6am departure, nine hours, several rest stops, and two missed exits on my part. I don’t think my brother-in-law is very happy with me, but we are all happy to be here.
Doesn’t take long to realize it is a bad year for mosquitos.
And over the course of a few days many mayflies lose their lives- or at least their wings- to my nieces and nephew.
Hugs to the little ones, unpacking the car, and then it’s straight to the lake.
The water is my home.
The tiny cottage is a swirling mixture of toys and sand and catching up and getting ready for dinner. Eight adults squeeze around the dinner table and the kids eat on the couch.
My sisters are strong, beautiful mothers.
Nuts to think that when we were the kids’ age, we were running around here like wild horses with our cousins just like they are. We were sleeping at night while our parents stayed up late listening to oldies and playing euchre, just like they did.
We devour hamburgers and brats off the grill, fruit salad that is sweet because my mom loves sugar, chips, and sizzling fried potatoes. There are the usual three different conversations going on at once. Juli is talking about something adorable Naeli did yesterday, while Nick and Dave talk about games, and Jenni shares about her new job.
Dad informs the two other men who also ate both a hamburger AND a brat that this was a mistake, and they all groan with full bellies…and then dad asks us to pass the chips.
The sun dances golden through the windows in a gleam that only exists up here, at our cozy cottage in the U.P.
The kids are done eating and are now hitting balloons into our food every now and then. It’s chaotic, and crazy, and loud. And it is home.
Some of us get up to do the dishes, and there is more chaos as people clear and wash and dry and put away. Many hands make light work, and I am thankful that my husband helps.
Our 8-track player is broken so dad plays Rock Me Gently on his phone.
And this is home.