Since that passing of Jon, my brother-in-law, to colon cancer a couple of years ago, my nephew Brandon and I are frequently visiting Brandon’s inherited cabin in Northern Michigan. Trips together center on completing various projects to sustain the cabin, a wee bit of partying, and always finding time for some trout fishing.

Both of us are novices in the art of fly fishing; enjoying natures serinity while also learning the process of attractively presenting the seasonal hatch in form of a dry fly without spooking the native brook trout, rainbow or larger brown trout, we are pursuing.

Fast forward to today, and after a long morning of trout fishing on this cold spring fed river and some afternoon cabin repairs, I decide to rest along the rivers edge with a cold beer in toe. While comfortably reclining on the wicker lounge chair, I find myself debating whether to take a nap or take in a cool refreshing swim.

I decide on a late-day dip. In a headfirst dive from the dock, I submerge deep within this cold lazy river. This plunge down under soon causes quite a shiver. As I resurface and gasp for a full breath of air, I feel heart palpitations gaining rapid pace. With senses in overdrive, I take in the rustling sounds of aspen and birch leaves...