In Michigan, where I grew up, you’re never more than six miles away from a lake of some sort. So when the dog days of summer hits and the temperature skyrockets, everyone heads for the cooling breezes of their local watering hole.
I thought the whole world operated this way. Until, that is, I moved away. Then I discovered the sad truth.
A good lake is hard to find.
And good beaches? Well, in Indiana, they’re practically non-existent. Instead, we’re forced to rely on the community pools. And that? Is just not the same thing at all.
So, a little earlier this week, on the fifty bazillionth day of 100 degree weather, I decided I’d had it. I needed a beach. A real beach. One where the opposite shore wasn’t an easy doggy paddle away.
I needed Lake Michigan.
A few short hours later, we were packed up and on our way. A few hours after that, we arrived in Nirvana (also known as New Buffalo, Michigan).
The air was drenched with the scent of big water. The sound of waves crashed inside my ears. The blue, blue water beckoned us.
And soon I had my feet planted firmly in the sand.
What can I say? I’m a Michigander at heart. It’s not summer until I’ve got water at my back and sand squished between my toes.