I live on Beaver Island.
When counting my blessings, I never mentioned it.
I forget, sometimes, how special it is.
When I was in college, coming back here to work only in the summertime, my daughters complained: they would miss all their friends, there would be nothing to do, they would die of boredom. “Hey, guys, we are lucky to be able to do this,” I told them, “Summers on Beaver Island…that’s how the rich people live!” As it turned out, they made new friends and found plenty to do. Now they wish they could be here in the summertime.
This is where I always wanted to be. From the time I was eleven years old, and we were able to take annual vacations to Beaver Island, I never wanted to leave. No one ever felt as lucky as I did when that finally became a reality.
It’s easy, though…
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