I have always felt as if I was being bombarded by the world, the constant flow of information, the stress of meeting others expectations. I knew though during the summer that there was always a sanctuary, a last getaway from the responsibilities of the world. My cabin was this place, no cellphone service, no wi-fi, and for the longest time no cable. All we had was a lake and each other. And to be honest it was better that way.

It was just a tiny log cabin, completely unnoticeable from the road except for a single pine needle covered dirt driveway and a single stone chimney rising up, overshadowed by the trees. The size didn’t matter though, what did matter was that it was our. There was always a new adventure to go on, a new secret to find, a new memory to make. I always find it a wonder when I look back and see how my brother and I had the time of our lives, running up and down a hill, building a treehouse that when I look back at now, should not have by any means held us up, and fishing. The fishing wasn’t as much for me as it was for my little brother, I never seemed to be able to catch a single fish while he managed to catch 14 in one night. There is always a laugh to be had when we start to talk about how I thought he was cheating. Those memories will always have a place in our hearts.

I can still remember when we first went to that cabin, I was no more that a 3 feet high, clumsily walking over asking “Are we going to live up here for now on?” My heart dropped when they said no, but some how I feel like when my parents saw that sad little boy, the question of whether to buy the cabin or not was decided for them. Just the words, “but we can come up here when ever we want too.”, force all the sorrow out of my mind, replacing it with sheer joy.

My parents were always left in wonder why my brother and I never tried to bring friends up, there was always the excuse of “They were busy”, or that “They couldn’t come”.
The real reason though was always deeper than that, and at the same time the real reason was a lot more simple. Always in the back of my mind the question of “When will I be able to spend some time with Mom and Dad?”. Both of my parents work, I only really ever see them for about 4 to 5 hours a day. The feeling of being around them when they weren't worried about work was amazing, they were fun loving, always ready for the next chance to have fun. It was as if that 3 hour journey had completely transformed them, and when thinking back I couldn’t have enjoyed our time together more. From them I learned life lessons, how to look at the world and see all the opportunities it has to offer.

There was always an overwhelming sense of joy as the car pulled in after the long and restless car ride. Our dog was always first, trying to stand on the seat, as if he was trying to see to other dogs he frequently played with had waited for him while he was gone. When we finally felt the car lurch to a halt, the simple act of getting out of the car turned into a race, and we were in the middle of the track. The click of the door was the signal to move or be trampled. All you would see is just a flash and then the happy bark of dog greeting eachother for the first time for the summer. When looking back my brother and I always envied the dogs because when their play time began, so did our work.

I can only describe the feeling as waiting for your parents to get up on christmas morning, transferring the contents of the car to the cabin was always maddening. Thankfully though the job didn't last long, when my brother actually felt like helping… At first glance the cabin is nothing special, even when carefully looking it over it was just a run down log cabin in the middle of the woods. One thing that you wouldn’t see though are the memories that are woven into the walls, the good times mixed in with the ashes of a past fire, and the pure joy that had spread through the water. Memories that would bring a tear to your eye of past friends and a smile for the good times you shared with them.

Just with the first step out of the door you could feel it, the pure energy, the pure joy of no responsibilities. Then those thoughts would be extinguished by the soft, gentle sounds of water lapping against the dock. Then came the race down falling over ourselves, hanging on to a single rope that had seen better days. It was almost an art going down those concrete steps in our bare feet, where the sharp edges were and which steps to skip to avoid loose rocks. Then the thud of our feet hitting the wood of the deck, then silence. I cannot explain why every time we got to the bottom of that steep hill that we just stopped and stared, but it is one tradition that I am joyous to have.

The water, amazing to look at, is perfectly flat. No wind disturbs the calm, almost mirror like surface. Everything just fits together, the wooden dock, the tree that has almost fallen over into the water, and the small but fitting boat house that hangs over the water. It turns into the mad rush to find the right key to to undo the lock, almost as if it is the last thing keeping my brother and I from our summer. There was always an order to the way we set up the deck, first we took out the kayak, then the chairs, and finally the hammock.

It was always a race of time to try to get into the water before we got called up for lunch. A race, now that I look back at, we frequently lost. The smell of the grill had flowed down to us minutes ago reminding us that our time had almost ran out. We trudged up the stairs to hear the joking voice of my dad saying that we may be afford to fix something. My father always seemed to be less cold to us when at the cabin. It was as if all the stress, all the worries had melted away and left a man who was looking for a reason to smile, ways to enjoy life. Though when that man left every winter, he also left with a small piece of my fond memories.

When thinking back, those moments had changed me. The way I think, the way I act, the way I view life. The time I spent up at my cabin couldn’t be traded for anything, no item, no matter how valuable, could ever even compare to the time, the experience of the time I spent there.