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May/2004* 05/25/04

 

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Macinaw - a step back in time. . Photo: Becky Saltsman

 

 

 

Macinaw Street.  Photo: Becky Saltsman

 

 

A storybook house in Macinaw.  Photo: Becky Saltsman

 

 

Lilac on Macinaw Island. Photo: Becky Saltsman

 

Mackinaw: A Step Back In Time
Becky Saltsman

As I look at my photo album of memories, I can’t help but appreciate people, places, and

 

things that bring past memories back to life. I was once told, “Never grow up, you can’t go back.”

I now know it is possible for those who believe. Mackinaw, and its surrounding wonders is like that step back in time for me. Sometimes I feel as if Mackinaw’s magic is beyond the horizon of days gone by.

Every year I camp at this campsite just two miles away from Mackinaw City, Saw Mill Creek. The first time my husband and I visited, we had no idea, our nights would be spent along the shore. We had no idea we would watch the sun rise and set over the rippling waters.

We had no idea the magic we’d experience sleeping beyond the Mackinaw Bridge. With it’s flickering lights beneath the heavenly illumination the bridge rendered me humble and speechless.

Suddenly, I found myself transported back to the days of young love. I can’t explain how my worries just melted. I can’t explain why I felt as if I was getting to know my husband all over again.

I just know we began to talk about when we first met. We talked about our future. We talked about our love. We sighed as we both realized how badly we needed to get away. Then, we sat in silence. Neither of us had words to express our peace.

For the past eight years we have visited this place. We have made our own traditions. One of my favorite traditions consists of spending an entire day in the city.

Mackinaw City cannot be compared to any other city I know. Maybe I love it so much because it’s the kind of city the child in me once dreamed about. It’s like the candy house of Hanzel and Gretal. But, Mackinaw is the beautiful version of that story.

There are red brick paths that lead to endless ice cream shops and famous fudge shops. The streets smell of boiling chocolate. Suddenly, I am five. I am in a candy land. I want every flavor imaginable. The pretty pastel colors of the Victorian homes bring even more splashes of delight.

Then, I hear musical sounds. My eyes begin to trail bigger than life performers. I start to imagine how awesome it would be to make a living in such a wondrous city playing as they do.

Sure, I could be a magician, dancer, singer, or clown. But, I realize watching is less work. So I smile and admire grown ups who know how to play.

Finally, Our visit to the city is complete when evening falls. Around ten o’clock there is a noticeable hush. Everyone rushes to the red brick wall to find a seat. Some sit around the fountain, while others find their spot on the scattered benches.

A fog fills the city. A giant screen is dropped. Excited toddlers dance in the grass with there blinking sneakers. Soon, music begins to play while every color of the rainbow begins to do a laser dance. Once more the adult in me takes a seat to the child in awe.

And so our next day is for tradition number two. My husband and I visit Mackinaw Island.

How can I pen my visit there? What words can explain how lilacs grow along the shore? What words can explain the dance lilac tree’s do as I feel the cool crisp winds upon my face? What words express the sweet lilac perfume that intoxicates my senses? What words express natural masterpieces of art? What words tell of the picture rocks and their tropical like beauty?

What words express what it is like to be on an island where technology is not the norm? There are no cars. Only the distant sound of trotting horses, young lovers of all ages, and playful hearts riding their bikes along the shore.

Honestly, I just breathe.

I am in love with this place. What more could I say to describe that feeling?

Mackinaw is simply a place for those who know how to close their eyes. It’s for those who know the inner child will wither if she’s not allowed to come out and play. And so, every year I visit this gateway back in time.

I close my eyes and wait for Mackinaw’s magical winds to grab hold of my inner child’s hand. Like a welcomed friend, Mackinaw invites my inner child out to play. And what other choice do I have? For to me Mackinaw is a saxophone on the beach. All I can do is give into its timeless dance.

 




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