My favorite place has always been my grandparents’ camp in Little Traverse, Michigan. Every summer, my large family crammed into a fifteen-passenger van to make the excruciatingly long nine-hour trip to the Keweenaw Peninsula. There was always lots of fighting between my siblings. By the end of the trip we were all so sick of being in a cramped van that the last hour seemed to drag on forever. Arriving at the camp was always the best feeling. The air seemed fresher there and the cool breeze off the lake was a welcome change when compared to the usual humid ninety-degree summer days in my hometown. Time seemed to slow down at the camp. The worries and stresses that we had the day before seemed like a part of another life.
When I look back on my childhood it seems that most of my best memories were during the one or two weeks I spent at our little camp on Louis Point. Our camp was by no means anything spectacular, although in recent years it has been renovated. The camp in its old days was a light blue color, with a curved roof. It was a tight squeeze when all of my relatives were there, but the small space made it seem cozier and comforting. When you open the door to go inside, you immediately stepped into the kitchen and dining area. My grandma could usually be found in the kitchen, she loves cooking and would often make dinners like spaghetti or ham and potatoes with homemade bread. Grandma always made sure everyone was well fed and even when feeding huge number of relatives that I have, there was always left overs. In the mornings when I woke up, grandma would make coffee and muffins or her famous buns. The kitchen was always a flurry of activity by day, food in the oven various ingredients strewn across countertops and lots of people trying to assist preparing that day’s meal. But by night, things would calm down a bit. I remember playing many games of Mexican Train late into the night, when time would pass by much too quickly.
All day long at the camp, the fire in the sauna would be burning. As a young child, I spent entire days splashing in the chilling Lake Superior and then running to the sauna as soon as I got too cold to handle it anymore. Oftentimes, we would wash up in Lake Superior. Washing up in the lake was so refreshing. The water was skin bitingly cold, and I would have to wash the shampoo out of my hair as fast as I could as to not freeze to death.
After long days in the sun swimming, biking, and playing games, I was always exhausted. In the evening, the adults gathered in the living room to visit. They usually put the little kids to bed early so they could enjoy some time to themselves to relax. One day, my mom “forgot” to put me to bed. I was sitting in my grandpa’s lap listening to the conversations of my relatives. They were laughing and enjoying each other’s company. In the comfort of my grandpa’s arms, it was a struggle to stay awake. I was so comfortable and warm, and all the familiar voices were soothing. In that moment, I wanted to stay awake and be a part of the adults’ conversation, but I was too tired from the day’s excitement. Finally, I gave into my exhaustion and I started to hear the voices get louder and then fade away. Eventually, I was sound asleep in a place where I was safe, content, and loved.
That day as a young child, I wanted to be a part of the adult’s conversation and I could not wait to grow up. Now, as a soon to be adult I long for those carefree days that I spent at the camp. I wish I could be a worry free innocent child again, small enough to fall asleep in the arms of my grandpa. This summer, I was not able to get work off to spend a week at the camp with my family. I wish to be a kid again and I miss the times that I spent at the camp but now I must accept that I am growing up and I going to have to accept the responsibilities of the real world.
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