Underneath me the water is still, echoing the laughter around campfires that are no more than specs of light from cottages in the distance. The wood from the raft cracks and creeks with the breeze as I lay on my back looking up at the stars that paint Lake Kasshabog’s sky. Millions upon millions of bright balls of dust scatter the darkness and give wonder to everything below.

It’s here where I feel the most alone, it’s here where I like to think.

For years now I’ve spent summer nights paddling out across moon lit waters to my raft to look up at the stars. I’m lucky to have this place to hear the silence and ground myself to what I love the most.

Laying with my blanket, I close my eyes and remember previous summers leading up to how I spent my last summer;

the summer of twenty-twenty.

Correll’s Cove has been my sanctuary since I was little. It’s been the home to sand castles and mermaids, hula dances and legendary frisbee golf tournaments. It has hosted birthday celebrations, anniversaries, memorials and holidays.

The cottage has seen breath taking sunsets and warm summer days spent soaking up sunshine and bathing in the lake. It has survived strong rains and damaging storms.

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I learned to fish off of its rocky points…and that I don’t like to fish after failed canoe adventures. As kids we’d beg for boat rides to the marina for ice cream, or for another chance to risk our lives on a tube ride.

Oh the tube rides- anyone that has ever been brave enough to put their lives into their parent’s hands to be thrown around like rag dolls until your tube hits that enormous double wave and sends you flying down into the cold waters deserves an “I survived ” bumper sticker.

There have been endless summers of my family laughing around the dinner table playing cards, convincing my mom that my dad doesn’t always win, even though he does. And Oscar playing in the water, chasing rocks that I toss him.

I will cherish the mornings of drinking tea with my mom on our swing, while we watch the boats go by and the lake sparkle in the sunlight of a new day. Or the thrill of sailing with my dad as water splashes into my face while I lean over the edge just hoping that we don’t flip… and abandoning ship with Babboo when we almost do.

I’ll think about Ohana fetching a perfectly placed frisbee and moving it as far away from a hole as possible in our frisbee golf game. And my dad, close behind her, louring her to move his frisbee closer to the winning shot.

Then there are the tea parties that my Nana would set up with an old metal table and set of chairs. We’d eat ginger snap cookies and drink tea with milk and sugar, holding the cups with our pinkies high in the air.

It brings me back to endless smells of smoking wood from evening camp fires and the sound of loons calling one another, echoing across Kasshabog. I remember the taste of watermelon and s’mores, chips and margaritas.

And for my last summer, it was the summer of Cheeto’s.

When I think about my last summer, I’ll think about the days spent reading on the rock and tanning in the sun. I’ll think about my yellow twenty-second birthday and how everyone came together, even with all my nagging about the theme. It was an incredible day filled with jokes, great food, better company and lots of yellow. I’ll remember playing my guitar for my family and how they listened, even when I sounded terrible. Or leaping from the jumping rock and feeling my heart pound out of my chest until I’d come up for air and see Sydney smiling with me. I’ll think about the evening put-puts on the boat with my parents as we cruise along the lake, eye spying and critiquing cottages because nothing compares to our own.

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My cottage has become my favourite place on earth. It is where I feel the closest to my family and friends. It’s where I know my heart belongs.

My last summer was a summer no one predicted, but one that I especially needed.

I know what you might be thinking, summer will come again… but it will never be the same as it was before. As I begin my last year of university, next summer will be an entirely new adventure- the workforce.

The days will still be warm and long, the stars will still shine above Correll’s Cove, but I won’t be there to see them the same way I could this summer.

When I open my eyes and look up at the stars I’m grateful for my sanctuary and for the people who fill it with love and laughter. Laying beneath Kasshabog’s sky for the last time, I watch a light streak the darkness then quickly fade. As a firm believer in the power of a falling star, I made a wish.

I closed my eyes and remembered the joy, the sunshine, the laughter, the tears, the Cheeto’s, the sunburns, the goodbye’s, the music, the bonfires and the memories of my last summer.

If only I could tell you how I wished for one more day at Correll’s Cove, for one more summer night under the stars, one last swim in the lake or one final fire with my family- but I can’t tell you what I wished for, otherwise, it might not come true.