I step forward and give him a hug. His body tenses in surprise, but he’s no more surprised than I am. I don’t really do hugs, but words fail me right now. I could never explain to him how much all of this means to me.

The boat is fast, its engine purring. You’d never know it was a relic from 1975. Like riding a bike could be replaced with like driving a boat, I think to myself. As soon as I’m out in the open water, it all comes back to me. My confidence and assuredness is restored as I navigate the boat across the choppy surface of the lake. The wind whips away the sluggishness of my hangover; the bright sun burns through my insecurities and my grip on the steering wheel grounds me to this place.

A whole new flock of cottages have been built along the shoreline, some so monstrous in size that they look as though they simply swatted trees out of the way before plopping down to greedily claim the land. Seeing the progress that’s happened in the time I’ve been away makes me wonder if the opposite has happened to Avril Island. Will the elements have eaten away at the wood? The ground shifted so much that it has unsettled the very structure? Will everything have fallen in on itself from loneliness and neglect?

There’s a point that stretches out into the lake where our bay begins. It’s thin to start but branches out like a hand—a hand belonging to a giant made from rocks, trees, and earth. The bay’s gatekeeper, ready to grab any unwanted guests and toss their boat back across the lake. As a kid coming into the bay, I always hugged the shore, flying past those rocky fingertips. Daring that hand to reach out and get me. Triumphant when it did not.

That point comes into view. It seems more land than hand from my adult vantage point. I slip past it, no longer fearing that it could come alive and catch my boat in its giant fingers—the fears I have now are much greater.

There are several islands in our bay, all of them privately owned, except for the biggest, which houses Windset resort. It was built in the 1940s and went through several transformations by the time my family bought property up here. My mother used it as an escape, slipping off for a round of golf or tennis in the afternoon, dinner, drinks, and dancing in the evenings.