My favorite place in the world to watch the sun set is on the edge of my grandparents’ dock in Traverse City, Michigan. Sure, there are plenty of places more beautiful. But none hold more memories.
As I dip my feet in the chilly waters of Lake Leelanau, I’m reminded of all the summers I spent here, frolicking with cousins and pulling up stones submerged underwater in search of crayfish. I remember my once muscular grandfather, now too frail to stand on his own, wading into the water with his shirt unbuttoned, pulling a 10-foot aluminum boat to the shore with one hand.
I remember fishing in that boat with my father, and begging him to stay out a little longer even though the sun was setting (a few minutes later, much to his surprise, I caught a large bass that nearly snapped my Mickey Mouse fishing pole).
I remember my grandmother yelling at us from the shore when we would swim too far out, and pretending like I couldn’t hear her even though she was well within earshot.
With each passing sunset, I cherish these memories a little more.