Every summer, a group of my high school friends treks north from St. Louis (and Nashville) to Frankfort, Michigan. We pool our funds to rent a home for a week and bring our laptops for working remotely (or prepping for lesson plans). We cook and eat together, go on walks, and spend as much time outside as possible. If you’ve ever watched the reality show Summer House, it’s exactly that energy, but swap the alcohol for green tea, the parties for afternoon naps and the arguments for group singing sessions. This year, it was a smaller group of us—just four gal pals escaping to the much cooler Michigan temps for much-needed quality time together.
One of our annual traditions is building a fire on the beach to watch the sunset. However, this year we were wildly unprepared for the undertaking. As is common in Michigan, firewood was for sale along the road, so we knew we could pick some up on the way to the beach. But we were missing a few other key elements.
Namely, matches.
That evening, we had a wonderful dinner with Maddie’s grandparents. We told them of our plans to build a fire and our lack of supplies, and they graciously tried not to laugh. They were generous enough to provide us with a book of matches, a few pieces of kindling and an old newspaper.
The beach was windy, because of course it was. We dug a hole in the sand to start, trying our best to protect our pending flame from the gusts. Before we were even three minutes into our attempt, a kind woman from down the beach ran over with extra kindling.
About ten minutes later, another woman approached asking if she could help in our efforts. “I know it’s a girl’s weekend, so it’s okay if not, but I’m a science teacher so I can absolutely help.”
Her husband wandered over shortly after, and we all got to chatting. My friend Emma is a teacher as well, so the education bonding began. They helped us create a deeper hole in the sand and blocked the wind with a towel as we finally got the kindling lit. After our fire was assuredly burning, they made a makeshift cardboard torch from our flame and took it to help light a fire for their kids.
Without the kindness of Michigan family and strangers, we would have been very chilly and s’more-less on the beach that evening. Our initial “we got this!” attitude was quickly replaced by laughter and rapidly extinguished matches. By accepting help and thoughtfulness, we were able to share our warmth as well.
Our week was full of moments like this—we all showed up for each other through belly-aching laughter, intentional conversations and profound peace in each other’s company. We sang a lot of Taylor Swift, watched terrible movies, and held hands jumping off the pier into a very brisk Lake Michigan. And instead of feeling drained after so much time together and in the sun, we were all refreshed and invigorated by fresh air and friendship.
Olivia graduated from Calvin in May 2018 with a double major in business and writing. She now works as an editor in Nashville, Tennessee and is eating her way through the restaurants of her new town. She enjoys weekend trips with friends, petting other people’s dogs, and drinking coffee like a Gilmore Girl.
