Enough of this nonsense. Its time I start allowing whatever spills out of me to freely invade the blank space in front of me. Think what you will.
Among other things, Pentwater has always been a place of beauty, refreshment, and clarity to me. Even when I was young and before I knew what these words really mean I could feel each of them inside of me the moment I rested my eyes on the “Pentwater Welcomes You” sign. I cherish this place in a way that I cherish nothing else in this world. So why not start writing uncensored right now—here in Pentwater—in the place that brings me more clarity than my glasses? Yes, I think this is the perfect place and the perfect night to do this—here flying solo in Pentwater at the Pines Motel. Here in my temporary home of cabin 15 that smells of old wood and sand. Here on this queen bed (which I brought my own sheets for) next to the lamp with the picture of the Mayflower ship that sits on the nightstand. Simply perfect.
After three hours of karaoke in the car and one short stop for some deodorant that actually works, I pulled into the gravel parking lot of the Pines (fact: I love the sound of gravel under tires).
Typically, the amount of excitement that goes into packing for and driving to Pentwater exceeds that of a small child on Christmas morning. I’m not the only one that feels this way. My entire family (who normally is here with me) would agree with me. Allow me to explain. The countdown to return to Pentwater begins the second we leave the town. I start packing weeks in advance in order to create the perfect wardrobe for this most perfect place. I literally started learning how to play the ukulele in anticipation of strumming along as I watch the sun sink into Lake Michigan—creating the greatest soundtrack for a Pentwater sunset. The ride through town when we first arrive is full of girlish squeals and wild hand gestures. Get it? This place is special. This place is magic. This place is perfect.
So here I am—flying solo in Pentwater and participating in all of the same rituals that I would be doing if my family were here. I tried so hard to find the excitement that is normally there when I come here, but it was nowhere to be seen. Today, I went to the beach. It was nice, but something wasn’t quite right. I had bosco sticks for lunch. They didn’t taste all that great. I went for a bike ride. It wasn’t anything special. I had ice-cream from Cosmic Candy. Again, not that wonderful. I watched the sunset from the beach. It was definitely pretty, but I’ve seen better. Without my flock of family flying with me, Pentwater is wildly different—almost unfamiliar.
So, boys and girls, what did we learn today? That although Pentwater is an incredible place, maybe it’s not the actual town that I love so dearly. Maybe, it’s the people that are normally with me when I’m here.
