Harness 1

Christopher Harness

Mrs. Denomme

AP English Language and Composition

24 February 2014

The Heart at the Heart of the Forest

The roads my family traveled were long and tiresome as the countryside that surrounded

us was unsettled and full of advertisements. Although the signs of commercialism obstructed the

view of the driver, it served as no distraction since we knew we would eventually get away from

all of the glitz and glamour that cities held and into the peaceful scenes of nature. Our travels

ended up at our Kalkaskan cottage, a cottage that was built by an old Italian couple who just

wanted to get away from their six crazy kids in order to get some peace and quiet. We shared the

same dreams as our ancestors once did: no more did we want the commotion from social media,

no more did we want to deal with the complaints of customers, no more did we want to get

involved in the drama between our most despised family members; we just wanted to get away,

get away from the craziness in our lives.

The exhausting journey would come to a satisfying halt once the driver in my car located

the hidden mailbox on the opposite side of the road after a quick pass or two (even Bruce Wayne

has trouble finding the Bat Cave from the outside). The car would creep up the driveway very

slowly, hitting dangling branches while tumbling around in the dirt like a turtle stuck in an

earthquake, but once we’ve gotten out of it, we were welcomed by a cottage that was still caught

in its slumber. However, in order to get our personal peace and relaxation, we had to complete

one simple task: locate the hidden key while avoiding or killing the temple guards, the guards

being swarms of pesky, blood-lusting mosquitoes. The plan would normally go off without a

Harness 2

hitch, thanks to the convenient can of Raid that was sitting on the porch, and we would follow

the brave soul who risked his or her own life for the family to get into the house. Wooden walls

and dust coated furniture greeted us the moment we walked into the dark foyer room, giving us

the feeling that this place had been abandoned for years. Navigating through the cottage would

be next to impossible unless someone put life back into it. This was a job for the “heart hunter,”

or the one who was responsible for locating the generator in the washroom. My family would

watch the unlucky one fade into darkness until the tacks of switches rung through the home, and

the light would bleed onto every surface, revealing the kitchen and hallways. Beds were chosen

from the two available, yet cramped rooms that were off the hallway or from the loft that stood

above the foyer. The dust covers acting like shells for the furniture were molted off and placed

into the washroom, making the furniture available for our comfort, and thus starting the vacation.

Kalkaska wasn’t the hoity-toity city to do shopping or socializing in, rather it was a quiet

area with a couple of lakes, vast, open plains, and plenty of wildlife. The cottage was at the heart

of it all, and the shed that stood up beside it held many do-what-you-want utensils such as fishing

poles and BB guns. Also, if there was enough gas left in the van, my family could return to the

city life in the glitzier Traverse City. It was like touring through the Beverly Hills of Michigan,

excluding the actual Beverly Hills in Michigan, with its larger-than-life homes, great views of

the Great Lake Michigan, and plenty of shopping for any tourist. Even if we didn’t go, there was

still plenty of fun to be had back at the cottage, whether it be cycling through the ancient forms

of entertainment (who has ever heard of a VHS tape?) or fishing at the secret pond that shied

away from the eyes of the public. Nights would be spent with a feast at the wooden “Seven

Dwarves” dining room table, followed by a gazing of the outside world that stretched across the

sky. No one from the city could experience this quiet, yet fascinating life without worrying about

Harness 3

the next “tweet” or the horrors that spur in the world of politics, this was a private life that my

family and I could experience forever. Unfortunately, reality would butt its ugly head back into

our lives of relaxation, persuading us to return back to the oppressing, crazy, and just plain

boring city life.