Image credit: Olivier Guillard
During the drive up the tree-lined forest road, winding along the southern tip of the serene lake, my mind wandered, wondering what might be left of the small cabin that saw the sun rise and set on countless unscripted days of my youth. The path was no longer well-worn but the trees whispered my name. Upon seeing the shack, memories flooded back, thick with the stench of wet moss and pine boughs. The tilted front deck sighed under each step, the torn screen door dangled from its hinges, and inside, the fireplace still cradled pounds of ash and expired timber.