As soon as our car gets to the top of that hill we see it, that river. The St Mary's River, the stream of water flowing from the melting ice cube of Lake Superior. It is absolutely freezing but we feel like warriors when we take the plunge. At the end of a long windy road, there are multicolored cottages. There are old boats with wooden planks covering the places the floor caved in. There are new jet skis bought to entertain the dare deviled teenage boys. There is a trampoline, it is missing a few springs but it still holds the fifteen jumping kids who tore off the rule guide that once read “max 2 people”. There are a few golf carts used to accompany the retired. There are many things on that piece of land but to me, the most important things are not things. I turn over in bed and open my eyes, the light is shining through the blinds in our little yellow cottage. Across from me is my youngest brother Cullen, covered in a patterned quilt that looks like it was made from scraps of the dresses Laura Ingalls wore. Above him on the bunk bed is my brother Everett, I can not see his face but his large limbs always hang through the openings in the guard rail. We outgrew these tiny beds years ago but to us, they are just a place to sleep before our next great adventure. I step out of my bed, in doing so I step out of the room too. The room is just big enough to hold our three twin beds crammed between the walls. I throw on a pair of running shoes and head out the back door, being careful to not let the creaky floorboards or the rusty screen doors wake anyone. Out on the road, it is only me, my thoughts and a few animals. It always feels like it just rained but it's just the morning dew. The cold air wakes me and stirs that fire in my soul. Five or six miles usually does the trick. The last mile is always my favorite, at the one-mile store I wave good morning to Sandy, the owner whose sitting out front with her morning coffee. After that I am ready, I know in a few minutes I'll be running up the gravel driveway and hear my name being called from my baby cousins joyfully jumping on the trampoline. I'll go get a quick bowl of cereal from my grandma's cottage and hear her say “Have a good day! Lunch at noon.” as the red screen door swings shut behind me. I'll see my cousins all in their pajamas and bed head as they run out of their cottages ready to create the day's agenda. The pajamaed sandy eyed zombie won't last long before they are replaced by the warriors. The warriors come out dressed for battle, in their cheesy patterned bathing suits. We spend our days in various ways. We build rafts with the wood that Granddad was saving for the bonfire and nails that are more likely to give you tetanus then actually hold anything together. We swim daringly in the freezing waters, nipping at our skinny bodies that are as dark as they can be after weeks in the sun. We start projects and get distracted before they are finished and I, like the motherly older cousin I am, clean up the mess while the others steal some warm cookies from the stove top or a cold soda from the shack. We are not the same person we are when we are in our houses, our towns or our schools. We are wild and barefoot. Our shoes are lost and clothes are in a heap in on top of our suitcases. We are out from dawn to dusk only stopping to eat a quick meal. In a matter of minutes, we have engulfed the meals our grandma took hours to make. I am not sure if it is hunger from the amount of energy we have used or because we are so excited to go back out and play. “Play”, if I used that word anywhere else I would be laughed at. Teenagers don't play. Oh, but they do. Mud wars, tubing, biking to the mile store for some ice cream, scavenger hunts that we beg our Aunts to set up, catching frogs to scare off Uncle David, the list goes on and on. But no, teenagers we don't play. The world is a crazy place. It never stops turning. You can not stop anything as soon as you enjoy a moment it has passed. We wake up and check our phones, grab some breakfast and run out the door. We go to school, meetings, practices, and games. We do not enjoy the sunset from a kayak skimming across the glass like water. We just check the to-do list and forget. We forget to live our lives. We forget to enjoy. We forget to play. When we were kids we enjoyed everything. We loved sitting on Dad's lap to “drive” the boat. We would squeal at any chance Mom gave us to lick the spatula. We did not need the latest shoes, we would not even wear them. We did not need the most expensive clothes, we would get them dirty anyway. When I am at my cottage I am a kid again. I am free. I do not need to meet the expectations of a teenage girl. I can just roll over in bed, the only things I need in the whole wide world are in the beds next to me, covered in a patterned quilt.