Summers were the sun, warm and honest.
Nothing but innocence filtered through the
crisp and soothing air that was picked up off of
the beautiful Lake Michigan and carried over the shore.

Mornings stood promising with sugar-covered
strawberries, and hot black coffee flooded
with cream. The porch of the Inn was as old as the
rocks at the bottom of the lake, creaking at every gentle step.

Afternoons continued memories as the
speed boat dragged every waking body
across the glass, promising an injury to a brave soul
at least once every year

Nights remained faithful, spent lying on the
cool sand with a crackling bonfire nearby, or all twenty-five of us cuddled
into one tiny cottage where the idea of excitement included
endless hours of poker, spoons, and munching on pretzels to the very last crumb.

Every summer was a happy one,
a memorable one; and although it all soon reached and end,
no one could ever take away the memories.