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THIS IS US
The Places Where We Make Our Memories
On the importance of gathering and tradition
Whenever I think of Michigan, my olfactory memory kicks in first, flooding my nostrils with the musty odor of our cottage basement.
Each year, when I first descend down those basement steps, the odor smacks me in the face. It’s not unpleasant, just forceful. With it, I am struck by every memory of every week of every summer of every year I’ve spent in this cottage since I was 10 months old.
Most of these memories aren’t distinct, but rather a blur with no defined beginning or end. They are montages of The Things We Do Every Year.
Mornings in the back lake, counting my strokes, squinting into the rising sun. Afternoons on the beach, slathering sunscreen, glancing up from my book to stare into the water that glints and sprawls. Evenings on the deck, counting down the seconds as the sun slips below Lake Michigan’s horizon line.
Every summer, I tell people that we’re “going to Michigan.” Sometimes they ask, Why? There could be many reasons to go to Michigan, even some reasons not to go to Michigan.
Perhaps I should be more specific. By Michigan, I mean Northern Michigan, and by Northern Michigan, I mean an hour southwest of Traverse City…
