I haven’t spent much time in my hometown since I moved to Florida 13 years ago. I don’t have any family there and most of my friends have moved away, and, I don’t know, I guess there’s not much of a draw for me.
But there’s another place that felt a bit like home when I was a kid, and it has a big draw. We spent a week or two every summer in Wawa, Ontario, at a place called Whitefish Lodge. My parents loved it for its solitude, remote location, and incredible fishing. I liked it because the town has a big Canada goose statue and people talked funny.
In fact, my parents loved it so much that, for several years after retirement, they became official snowbirds, spending the entire summer in their cabin near the lake and winters down here. They sold their place a few years ago and have said every summer since, as they packed their car to head back up to Whitefish Lodge, that this would be the last summer. Definitely the last summer. They have other things they want to do, and the trip isn’t as easy as it used to be, etc., etc. And every summer they’ve gone back again.
This summer, Jared and I are joining them for a week. We’re going to hike and kayak and read on the porch. Jared’s going to fish with my dad and I’m going to do yoga on a stand up paddleboard out on the lake. (Well, attempt it, anyway. I fully anticipate falling into the chilly water a few times.)
I’m nearly beside myself to go back, just one more time, to a place that holds such strong memories. Knowing it’s likely my last trip there is a pretty sweet impetus to do all the things I’ve wanted to do, and it’ll be great to share that with Jared.
Aside from that, I’ll be forced to unplug — no phone, and no internet in the cabin — and, WELL. I know how this goes, and I know that, after about a day, it will be SPECTACULAR.
Is it weird to be this excited to basically say good-bye to something that’s been so important to me? Or maybe it’s just that I’m thankful to get the chance to say it. At any rate, man. I can’t wait.