“My dad said he wanted to keep it just in case any of you ever came back. He said he just didn’t feel right selling it.”

I look out across the lake, waiting for the emotion of Jim Senior’s gesture to pass. I literally feel like a mosquito bite would set me to bawling right now. It’s not a normal state for me and certainly not one I’m comfortable with, so I have to work hard to keep it at bay.

My eyes finally make their way back to Jim Junior’s face. “Well, that’s incredibly kind and generous of your dad.” I shrug. “And I guess he was right, ’cause here I am now, needing a boat.”

Jim claps his hands enthusiastically. “And so a boat you shall have, me lady.” He takes the handle of my suitcase and starts toward the marina office. “We’ll just put your items behind the desk. You go grab a coffee and one of Ms. Jelly’s famous cinnamon buns, and we’ll have your boat ready in no time.”

He glances behind him to make sure I’m following. “And don’t forget to buy some supplies if you haven’t already. Especially water.”

I silently thank god for Jim Junior and Jim Senior. I was ready to just climb on any old boat and drive out to the island with nothing but my clothes and a half-empty bottle of whiskey. I’ve never done Avril Island as an adult. Only as a child with a mother who took care of everything.

It might be the best coffee I’ve ever had, or maybe it’s just because for the first time this morning I feel like I’ve got things under control. Sitting at a café table outside Ms. Jelly’s bakery, writing a list of supplies while the boat is being readied—I’m the adult now, and I kind of like it.

And the cinnamon bun is even better than I remember. Or does it just feel that way because the taste is a direct line to my childhood? I can never go back, but I can sample food that transports me, makes my taste buds feel young again.

How different everything feels now as an adult—smaller, less shiny, less hopeful and full of possibility but all the more valuable. The screen door behind me sings each time it opens and closes with a customer. The sound didn’t truly register with me as a child, but as I sit here now, reunited with this setting, it cements me back in a place I loved dearly but took for granted, as the young so often do.