"What do you love? What do you really love? Not just your spouse, children, and the other things that are obvious, but what do you love in life?" This question was put before me and my friends at a recent book club. We were discussing the book "The Secret Life of Bees" by Sue Monk Kidd, in which that same question is posed to the main character. As we went around the circle answering the question, I was struck by the beauty in everyone's answers.

As you can well imagine, the answers were not things that required a lot of money or fame.They were often quiet moments, reflective moments, time spent reading or listening to music, time caring for oneself, and other thoughtful things. The answer could be anything. In fact, one answer from the book was the color blue. It was so simple, a color.

This got me thinking about my own list of things I love: the lake, a rocking chair, summer, ice cream,music and more. Each time I heard someone's answer I imagined myself doing the same thing but with one change, it was always near the lake. If I were reading, it would be by the lake; if I were drinking coffee, it would be on the deck; if I were looking at stars, it would be on the dock; if I were listening to music, it would be on the beach. There is so much tranquility, peace and power embodied in the lake for me. It gives me comfort just to be near it.

But you don't need to hear my list; you need to hear your own list, and that of your loved ones. What do you love? What do they love? What do you want to do with your life, your summer, your day or most importantly, your moment?

Make a list or refer to our past article,"100 Ways to Play," for some ideas. Think about your list and what you want to do this summer. Your loved ones will surely know you better by knowing the things you love.What you love is a part of you. Doing what you love might even involve taking a risk. It might be something you've never tried, but you think you might love it.Try it! Take your fear and tuck it in your back pocket and enjoy this life.What do you want to do,what do you love?

One thing is certain: you love life on the water. Hang on to that thought through the summer; spend it doing some things you love. As you create your list of the things you love I encourage you to read the following letter. It is a beautiful reflection of life on the water that I received after the spring issue of Lakestyle. I am sure it will inspire you to spend time doing the things you love with the ones you love.

Lake Story

by Janet Hendrickson

I met my husband, Todd, in college in the fall of 1977. Very early on in our relationship he introduced me to his “lake cabin” in Northern Minnesota. It was a place that his family had enjoyed for many years and a place that he loved. His heart was wrapped around this place and it was obvious from the first time I laid eyes on it. It was not an ideal time to be enjoying the lake in my opinion as it was completely frozen over and we had to shovel our way up to the front door of the cabin.The idea was that we were going snowmobiling. The car and the snowmobile trailer were parked up on the main road and we had hiked in several hundred yards. I was cold, wet and ready to “warm up.”What Todd hadn’t shared with me was that the cabin was not insulated and had very little chance of warming sufficiently in any reasonable amount of time. But, it was adorable.The classic example of a well-loved family cabin in the North Country, something that I had not had growing up on the prairies of North Dakota. He set about turning on the baseboard electric heaters and starting a roaring fire; it still wasn’t warm, but it felt cozy just the same.

This would be far from my last trip to the cabin but still one of the most memorable.Was it love at first sight? No, but it definitely became so in the years that followed.Todd and I dated for nearly 7 years and were married in 1983. In those 7 years I enjoyed many vacations and weekends at his cabin. I came to know his family and the neighbors on the beach. Most of the cabins surrounding his had been turned over from generation to generation and the kids he had run the beach with as a child were now marrying and having children of their own that were running the beach. It was wonderful to see him connected to these people by the time they had shared as children on this very same stretch of land. When we had children of our own they formed relationships with the children of Todd’s summertime buddies. We were from different parts of the state and all had different lifestyles but summer brought us together in a way that was as certain as the summer itself. Months melted away as we caught up with what had gone on in each family over the winter months. For us, the cabin was not a place we frequented in the winter. Perhaps this early encounter we had experienced kept us from trying again.

This was a place that Todd wanted our boys, three in all, to experience and come to love in the same way that he had as a child. He spent many days and many weekends of their lives showing them all the spots he loved as a child and sharing memories of how things were then. As they became old enough, in his opinion, not always mine, to acquire things like dirt bikes and BB guns he introduced them to the “sand pit,” a place he used to frequent. Soon they were taught to use the fishing boat and experiencing the responsibility of boating.You see,Todd was in a hurry to have them experience as much as they could, as fast as they could, because he was dying of cancer. We had come to face that sad reality early after his diagnosis and then through an experimental drug had a blissful 18 months of believing he just might make it. It was a hard reality to face while you are still raising your family. Todd was only in his early forties; our boys were only 13, 12, and 3. How could this happen to us? In a way, we were lucky; we had time to prepare ourselves and our kids for the idea that their dad was going to die.

Last summer, we went to the cabin on Memorial Day weekend, as was our family tradition and tried to make the best of a terrible situation. By then, Todd was quite ill and so tired of living with pain and limitations that did not agree with his vivacious personality. We were unable to stay for the entire weekend as Todd was uncomfortable and wanted to be home. He and I were sitting on the swing that faced our cabin and he turned to me and said, “I want to take it all in; this will be the last time that I ever see this place.” I couldn’t face those words that day and it’s still hard to think of them now. It was his favorite place on the face of the earth, and he had been to many, and he could no longer take enjoyment from it. It spoke volumes about how he was feeling both physically and emotionally. With a busy baseball season for the boys in front of us, it would be the 4th of July before we could return. Surely we could return was all I was able to think about.Yes, it would be hard with his illness but we could return.

Todd died on June 29th, 2002. His memorial service was on what would have been his 45th birthday, July 3rd.We never made it to the lake last 4th of July. By then, there was a part of me that had realized that we wouldn’t ever get back there with Todd, but it was too hard to face that our last time had come and gone.We spent most of the month of August at the cabin, just the four of us. It felt like the easiest place to be for all of us. It took us away from the home in the Cities that seemed so vacant without him.

Todd was cremated and had asked me to scatter his ashes in that lake, but I found when the time came, I couldn’t do it. It felt too final. It felt like there wouldn’t be a “place” for us to find him. So, after talking it over with the older boys we agreed that we would plant a tree in front of the cabin and put the ashes in the hole before the tree went in. It would give us a “place,” and Todd would have his wish, to be at his favorite place on earth. On Labor Day weekend we bought that tree and planted it lakeside, sharing that moment with Todd’s brother and his family and those neighbors that we had come to know and love. Shortly after, we were on the neighbor’s dock and he pointed up in the sky at a bald eagle that was flying overhead and said, “Look,Todd has come to see where he will rest.” In all those years of coming to the lake, I had never seen a bald eagle before. This one flew the shoreline about ten cabins down and turned around and came back.

I like to think it was Todd, giving us a nod of approval as he was carried into the next life. I have since been told that there is a Native American custom of bringing eagle feathers to the dying as they assist in carrying them into the next life. It is a peaceful thought and one that I chose to hold onto.

I can hardly wait for Memorial Day to roll around this year so that we can pack up to go to the cabin. I hope our tree survived the winter; we did; by God’s grace, the kindness of those in our daily lives, and lots of help from our friends and family. I want to watch it grow and change the way that we have these past months. Nothing is the same without Todd but I have come to realize that we are still a family and have memories to make, including those at the cabin.Todd left the cabin to his children in his will and for as long as they like, they can enjoy that little piece of heaven that we all know and love so well. It will always remind them of the man they were lucky enough to call “dad.”

What do you love?

What do you really love?

By Nancy Henke