Jack of Harts

My mom grew going to Star Lake every summer. The family farm was a few miles away, and they would swim there every night to wash off the residue of working on the farm. But she never had a boat ride on Star Lake. On Friday, her brother rectified that oversight. We took her ashes out on his boat and went by Camp Joy, the summer camp they attended throughout their youth. We went to the beaver dam where they swam as kids, and we jumped out of the boat to take one last swim with mom. And we took a picture of me and my uncle, recreating one of him and my mom in the back of the same boat four years ago. It was a good day. A beautiful day.