On the last day of school before summer break I would say my good-byes to my elementary school friends and travel north three hours to our family cottage perched on a small lake named Chesley. Dad would stay behind in the city to manage the family business visiting each weekend and Mom would drive the three Johnson boys to their summer home where Grandma would await.
My strongest sense of childhood, family and home is this cottage. Mornings we would roll up the bamboo blinds and see the barely risen sun shining off the lake as Grandma would cook breakfast. The days were spent rolling in and out of the water waving back at the adults watching and marveling at their boys.
We looked a lot like these boys. Joy, innocence, wet and smiling.