My Michigan Home is Where the Lakes Are

Home. It's not just a word, a place of origin, or a destination. It's more than where the heart is. It's where the soul is. You may not even know where it is until you find it, but when you find it, you feel whole.

My family and I found our home in an area of Oakland County that we did not originally plan to move to. We did not know the area well, but when we found it, we fell in love with the natural beauty of the area's many lakes.

When we first bought our home in the fall, we were surrounded by a stunning canopy of red, orange, and yellow leaves hovering above the area's lakes' blue waters.

Fall in Michigan

Every day is a postcard when you live near lakes

By the time we moved into our house, fall was quickly becoming winter, but we were treated to beautiful mornings of pink skies, ever changing ice formations along the lakes, or light dustings of snow on the ground.

Ice forming around the edge of a lake under a pink and blue sky

A rowboat longing for spring

The Little Things I Miss About Michigan

I am a proud Michigander, even though I currently live out of state. Here are some of the little things I miss about the Great Lakes State:

The smell of burning leaves in the fall.

July fireworks in Detroit or over one of Michigan’s many lakes.

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The return of baseball in the spring reminding us that, though it may still feel like winter most days, summer is right around the corner.

Driving on snowy roads with people who know how to drive on snowy roads.

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Michigan lefts: If you miss your turn, there’s always another one soon after.

Longing for Michigan Winters

Longing to play in the snow

Living in Virginia, I long for Michigan winters. The snow and ice shaped some of my best childhood memories. When I return now as an adult, I find peace among the frozen branches and snow-covered grounds of my youth.

Primacy

The first snow was the best. I did not dislike later snows, but they never were as thrilling as the first blanket of unspoiled white powder.

If I hurried outside, my footsteps would be the first brushstrokes upon the blank canvas. Animals had not even walked this earth yet.

Each step brought the sense that I was blazing a trail for future explorers to follow. Looking back at my lonely footsteps confirmed my belief that I was the first one here. Others would come, but my footprints would announce that they were too late.

Perhaps they would pave over my path or create avenues that intersected with mine. They might build monuments and forts of snow to protect their land, but their foundations were weak and eventually would fall. Later snowfalls might cover my trail and theirs, but they would not take that moment away from me. I was first…forever.