July in Wisconsin. The point in summer where it is warm enough to enjoy the lakes, have ice cream three times a day and look like a lobster. The common phrase “up north” for Wisconsinites could mean several different things. Going up to the middle of nowhere with no cell service and running water, going to some cottage near a lake with family, or going to the tourist favorite, Door County. Door County was an experience I was lucky enough to have each year and all thanks to my grandparents. 

As my grandparents saw potential in a piece of land up in Door County, they quickly built a house I now call my second home. We usually pack the van late day Thursday, stacking bags and food so high there was no view in the rearview mirror. Resting my head against the window as I stared out to the open lake, the lake I would submerge myself in tomorrow. When we arrived it was a race to the door. With thousands of mosquitos and flies swarming around the dull green porch light, I grab my Vera Bradley bag and sprint inside. 

Sitting by the fire, my grandparents welcomed me with open arms. Asking me if I am hungry or I just want to go straight to bed. I always chose to sleep. As I escaped my siblings, I always wanted the twin bed closest to the window. An observer would believe it’s because I wanted to see the lake, but anyone who slept in that bed knew it was the only bed where you sat up and didn’t hit your head. I’ve always despised slanted ceilings.

As I wake up to the crashing of waves, my mom opens the window as if she wants me to become blind. As I hold on to the railing and try not to slip on the wooden stairs, I skip past the fruit and bagels for breakfast; laying my eyes on Renard’s cheese curds. The squeak you hear with every bite could send one to heaven, or for me into a stage of lactose intolerance. 

As I put my Land’s End swimsuit on, which my mom insisted I wear, I am submerged in sunscreen by my dad. Just to make my parent's blood boil, I decide to roll around in the sand and then go in the lake and make sure none of the sunscreen is remotely close to my body. As I sit in the back of the kayak like a princess while my mom pedals for the life of her, I happily splash my legs and probably decrease her progress by 50%. As if I hadn’t already had quite the morning with cheese curds and annoying my parents, they offer to walk with me out to the lighthouse. 

As I promenade north with sand wedged in between my toes and in my hair, I see one of Door County’s treasures, the North Pierhead Lighthouse. The bright fiery red gleams in the sunlight and the seagulls disperse and I begin walking down the pier. As my mom grabs my arms so hard I lose my warm pink skin tone, a barge as large as what I thought Wisconsin was passing by. It honks its horn and I smile, not knowing that the honk wasn’t just for me. 

After several hours I am forced to pack up my beach toys and go back to the house. My grandma blocks me off from the front door and I sigh, I always hated using the hose to “rinse off” cause I would much rather leave a trail of sand through her house like Hansel and Gretel. She didn’t agree. So as the freezing water pierces my skin, I take the hose from my grandma to speed up the process; which results in me spraying the house. 

As I clog the shower drain with sand, I see the usual spider in the corner hidden by the toilet. My mom swarms me in a big kid towel as I sit under the blazing heated lamp. After 10 minutes I am told I must get up and reminded that I am not a cat. We instead get ready for my favorite part of the day, dinner! I throw on a cute sundress, and my sandals, put a bow in my hair and add my princess watch. Life could not have gotten any better.

Driving down the same familiar roads we take a left, then a right, then a left and a final right to get to Stone Harbor. We stroll around the docks as our table is set. The waves crash on the rocky shore and spray over me, just like a sprinkler. I look for any turtles or fish as if I could catch them from six feet high. Then my mom yanks my arm again claiming I am “testing her limits today.” She always over-exaggerates. 

After devouring my dinner and also consuming half of the pizza on my face. We take our walk on the new bridge. I walk up to the point where it says the caution bridge will open, take a deep breath, and sprint across. Phew, I made it across safely! Another year of not being caught on the bridge as it opens gives me the opportunity to lay my eyes on the Frozen Spoon. It was the newest addition to Sturgeon Bay and I loved it! The 8 flavors of frozen yogurt that I could customize or mix, not to mention the dozens of toppings. I never left without feeling like I just ate an elephant. 

As we head home from the long day taking a left, then a right, another left and a final right, I rest my head out the window to stare out at the lake. The lake I will submerge myself in again tomorrow.