I went to the Lakehouse every summer since I was a child, and it was a place like no other.  The house had been in my family since the 1950’s, when my grandmother and her brother purchased this fishing cabin and then built on to it, so it could accommodate both of their families for summer vacations with their children.  I loved that nothing seemed to ever change there.  It always smelled the same.  It always looked the same.  It always felt the same.  It was a place where my family and I go for quiet, rejuvenation, and to be together.  We also went there after my father passed to feel a connection with the history of his childhood and his family.  At the Lakehouse, I could feel the past, and I could touch it.  I could look at an old deck of cards that my father played with, and I could sit on the dock that he sat on, and I could sleep in one of the beds he spent many summers sleeping on.  Being there was like going back in time, to a time that came before me, a time that later included me, and a time that will continue to run through me.  

The Lakehouse is no longer, but my memories live on in these photographs.