For me that place is the former site of our family cottage on the shores of Otter Lake in Honor, Michigan.
As a kid, I would go every summer with my family for weeks at a time to the little green cabin nestled in what is now part of the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. There was no television, barely a radio, and this was before the invention of e-mail, let alone i-devices. On clear days I woke up with the sun to go fishing with my dad and then hiked and ran for hours on the trails which wound through the surrounding forests. I would return in time to hear the whippoorwill and read or write in a lounge chair on the screened-in porch to the sound of lapping waves until I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
On rainy days I put together puzzles, read more books, maybe listened to tales of Lake Woebegon. I wrote in a journal every day and this was the birthplace of some of my first attempts at writing a novel.
That place, more than any other place, felt like magic to me. I had no cares in the world; nothing to fill my mind but stories and daydreams.
That place, more than any other place, allowed me to be myself.
Of course I got to be myself at home, and still do, but home is full of its own responsibilities, chores, to-do lists; it’s not always the place that you get to relax and be the best you.
Do you have a favorite place? A place that will always be a part of you?