For all 29 summers of my life, I have spent time in Harbor Springs, Michigan. It seems random, I know. A little town almost to the upper peninsula of Michigan. A girl from Nashville, who has always been a Tennessee native. But my mom's side of the family has had a house up here for generations, and if you took one breath of the fresh air and felt the breeze off Lake Michigan as you cruised in to town on a bike, you would completely understand why we make the trek up every summer.
Sadly, this summer will be the last.
When I was a senior at Wake Forest, my grandmother passed away suddenly. Since that terrible day in 2011, my parents have had the house up here (shared with my aunts) but it just doesn't make sense to keep a second home that is 800 miles away and costs more than my annual salary in taxes alone each year.
We have been talking about selling it since Ma's death, but it always felt too sentimental. "Maybe one day we should sell this place." Well, that day has come. My parents listed it this spring and it rendered multiple offers immediately. They picked one and we will officially give up the place at the end of this summer.
With all the talk of selling, I was really sad. When I learned how much money it was selling for, the practical side of my brain kicked in and I was like, "This makes total sense. It's what we need to do. It is ridiculous to be spending that much money on a vacation home that we seldom use." And then I got off the plane yesterday, and the sentimental side kicked right back in. I had forgotten how this place has the innate ability to transform you into a relaxed, better version of yourself!
I feel like I am in a position where I know I have to break up with the guy, but I am still crazy about him and want just a little more time hanging out. And I know I have the next 10 days to relax in this wonderful place. But it just feels like there is a dark cloud looming over, knowing this summer will be the last.
The worse feeling of all, though, is that it feels like losing my grandmother all over again. It feels just as harrowing as receiving that phone call on a sunny Thursday afternoon. And that is the most heartbreaking part of it all.