Family Is Everything

Experiencing the warmth of summer and the glowing faces during the scorching heat felt terrible; my feet felt heavy due to the conveyed sadness. It's yet another year since I failed to secure calmness in this barren place. Moreover, it only took a spark of hope to change it all— the winding road that took me to my haven; you could call it my sanctuary or comfort hotel. Memories drift over me like a wave hitting my feet while standing on a beach. From there, I could see Lake Michigan ad infinitum. I was a kid again, whether it be witnessing excitement or enthusiasm; my grandfather was the central author of my inspiration. His laughter led to my urge to discover more and be anything. In many ways, those sunny days of the year have paved new paths of experiences. I think back to the summers spent with everyone who adored me and embraced me for me. My grandfather, as tender and elaborate as ever, would take me on long drives country miles away. He would linger to point out his secret yet known places in the process. We would rarely visit the lovely roadside diners. We would sit and sometimes see the restroom, glancing over from behind a magazine secretly. The coffee was sweet and consistently hotter since then, and the smiles were consistently warmer than ever before. However, as much as we appreciate the

And lastly, there were the grandmothers, those amazing women who gave me invaluable lessons of kindness and empathy. They could sit with me for hours, simply listening to my stories and telling me encouraging words. They would then take me to the farmer's market, taste fresh fruits and cheeses, and tell me more about the power of community. Growing older, I started to see the town from a different perspective. The place became more lovely, with the sun's reflections on the water's surface and the stars shining like diamonds in the sky. For the first time, I understood there was more to life than the city's usual hustle and bustle. I still remember the summer when I turned 12. Emma and I started our small business on the beach, selling lemonade and cookies to the tourists. The summer was filled with hard work, as we would bake early in the morning and finish late in the evening. But the experience was also filled with joy and laughter. These and many other summers have altered me like nothing else could. It is our relationships and, undoubtedly, the experiences that mold us. It is not only the place that changes us but also the people we meet, the things we accomplish, and, most importantly, what we learn.

I think about the winters, too, when the snow would fall gently, casting a serene silence over the town. My grandfather and I would go ice fishing, sitting for hours on the ice, talking about our dreams and aspirations, and waiting for a bite. These were the moments of quiet reflection when I could let my guard down and just be. And as I stand here now, looking out at the lake, I am grateful. This place, this small town on the shore of Lake Michigan, has given me so much. It has given me a sense of home, a sense of place, and a sense of family. It has reminded me that home is a state of mind, a feeling of warmth and security that one can find just about anywhere. I know I will come back here, again and again, drawn by this place's memories and magic. I will bring my children here someday. I will regale them with stories about my summers, Emma and the grandmothers, and my grandfather and his laughter. I will show them around the hidden gems and the secret spots I only know about because I will always carry this place in my heart and mind. It has become a part of me, a piece of my soul that I will cherish forever.