As a child, I never realized how lucky I was to have a humble cottage in the ever-welcoming South Haven, MI. Growing up, my family and I would often take trips up for the weekend, and immediately I would crave the feeling of the warm, grainy sand in between my toes and the chilly but inviting waves that crept towards the shore.

Every Sunday, although I dreaded it at the time, we would head to St. Basil’s in the morning for Mass, and I would seemingly turn my head around and stare out the large, dark espresso wooden doors in the back of the church in the hopes of seeing the tall, fervent, scarlet red lighthouse on the South side of the pier. After communion I would smile ear-to-ear knowing Mass was coming to a close so I could steal my parents' hands and head out onto the cliffs that at every moment took my breath away.

I looked over the blowing green grasses of the cliffs and knew with every breath and every soft hint of the lake that down on that beach is where I wanted to be. For me, there is something about that water and being out on the boat with the wind blowing every hair out of place and the brisk droplets dancing on my skin from the current that brings me to a place of complete serenity.

South Haven is often landmarked by the loyal standing red lighthouse that you could see twinkling in the darkest of nights. It opens the harbor to what seems to be the never ending, sea green Lake Michigan. I sit on the pier with my feet dangling over the edge of the cement stump that makes you feel like a daredevil, as you can see the rocks peering into your eyes hardly inviting you in for a swim. I watch the sailboats cruise with the gentle breeze, the speedboats roar with every jump, and the cabin cruisers elegantly flow as the waves pound the bow.

Once on a cool night, we ventured down the downtown hill back onto the left edge of pier the lighthouse just feet away. With us we brought paper lanterns with which we drew a wondrous crowd; with the wind blowing it presented a challenge, but one by one we lit up the sky with glowing colorful lanterns and a handful of wishes. We stood in awe, as did everyone else as wandered aimlessly back towards the beach.

Not only is South Haven known for the ancient red lighthouse abroad South Beach, but it is very well known of course for their Blue Moon ice cream at the one and only Sherman’s right off of Phoenix Road. Every visitor has to be greeted by making a stop for Sherman’s, and surely you will leave with a tongue bluer than the lake and a food baby like you have never seen. If you ask for a single scoop, like I always do, it serves more as a triple scoop that stands towering, and you ponder, "how am I going to finish this?" Trust me, you will find a way. Sherman’s surely will never disappoint; it never has done me wrong in all of my twenty years.

While on the topic of food, another wonder of South Haven is The Depot, a hole-in-the-wall liquor store with the best sandwiches ever known to man. Snuck in the back corner it stands, often with samples of tasty treats while you attempt to patiently wait for your sandwiches to be ready. I cannot quite pinpoint what secret The Depot holds to make its sandwiches so tasty, mouth-watering, and delicious, but I assume it has to be close to the secret ingredient in Mr. Krab’s Krabby Patties!

However, the last and best wonder of South Haven is, of course, the family that I have there. From the time I was little and for as long as I can remember my family in South Haven contributed so much to my amazing upbringing. Whether it was taking me to the beach, going for a ride on the jet skis, taking a bumpy, stinging thrill ride on a motorcycle or four wheeler, they have always taught me to adventure and to grow fearlessly. Now as generations have continued to grow, I see life from their perspective and how crazy it is to think that after all their years of watching me and giving me endless piggy back rides and depot runs, it is my turn to share these same experiences with their children, and I am more than excited for this journey to begin.