I have childhood memories that included lake resort week. Renting cabins with stud walls open at the top and outhouses. Fishing. Collecting rocks. Swimming and jumping from wooden docks that left my feet full of slivers.

Time passed. We had three sons and continued our lake week tradition with my mom, who was widowed. The boys swam, collected stuff, fished, got sunburned. All had fun.

Just like that, they were married and expecting kids. One suggested buying a lake cabin for family gatherings. So we found a lake place near Litchfield, Minn., a manufactured home with air conditioning, dishwasher, three bedrooms, open dining, kitchen and living space. It might have had too many steps to the lake, but it didn’t need a lot of work, and we bought it with help from my mother, who died in 2007. When the rest of the family came, one son complained that it was too modern to be a real cabin. Nobody liked the muddy shore. Then the son who had suggested the cabin idea moved away.

Despite that, over the past 12 years, we hosted family and friends for numerous campfires, cookouts and sleepovers. We bought Uncle Dave’s antique pontoon for fishing and swimming at the sandbar. We always appreciated the area’s calming quiet, and we saw and heard all sorts of wildlife: Eagles soared, pelicans circled, wrens and robins built nests, hummingbirds and bees buzzed through trumpet vines, dragon­flies darted, cheeky chipmunks chased each other and snakes slithered.

With bittersweet sadness, we decided to sell when we realized we physically couldn’t maintain it with our creaking joints and waning energy. A young couple, who had lost everything in a fire, bought it, furnishings included. We’re hopeful the new owners will make great memories. We have multitudes!

Ruth Bures, Winona