Life is not just. Never is this more apparent than on the Last Day Up North. The air has never been more sharp and clear, the sunlight more golden and mellow, slanting sideways and dappled through the trees. On the Last Day Up North, the lake is aqua with shimmering green, and the waves lap gently on a shore of sugar sand. The wind glows gentle and fragrant, just enough to keep you cool under the sun.

     On the Last Day Up North, the mist hangs a fine and billowy gauze, floating over the shore and veiling the distant points and islands. The colors are never more sublime than on the Last Day Up North, a palette of subtle tones, more shades of blue than you knew existed. Every sense is sharpened and filled with delight.

     On the First Day, the weather was crisp and promising. It was too late to get out to the beach but sky was clear and guileless. The Second Day began with storms and cold; you spent it by the fireplace, and the kids nearly murdered each other. On the Third Day, you went into town with the kids fighting, and you spent too much money.

     That same day, the sky was like sheet iron, the cold clouds scudding by three feet above your head. The waves were high and mighty, but the lake was polar. A wind like a vicious animal tore at the windows and mocked any attempt to start the grill.

     But the Last Day, on the Last Day Up North, the very atmosphere is velvet. The children romp joyfully, cherubic, sharing and leaping, their laughter like tiny bells. They find treasure on the Last Day: stones and precious objects which they show with pride. They say they love you on the Last Day Up North.

     The Fourth Day Up North is partly cloudy with highs in the upper 50s. You live in the raw blue sweatshirt you brought for morning and thick socks. No one goes barefoot on the Fourth Day. The Fifth Day is clear but cold and the Sixth is tolerable. Then comes the morning of the Last Day Up North.

     The morning light gleams and the birches fairly dazzle. The sun in perfect for tanning, and the beach is warm and giving. The lake water is wonderful and as you look around, you see that the land never glowed like this before, never before radiated with so seductive an aura. The light is perfect on the Last Day Up North, and the people in town are friendly and accepting.

     There is sand on you feet on the Last Day Up North, and blonde eyebrows, and white teeth gleaming in a tanned face. You hair is wild and tinged with gold, and you haven't gained a pound. That evening the sun arches gracefully into the water in a sunset of cotton candy and shooting crimson bubble gum, a perfect red orb in a deep turquoise sea. That night the stars shine with a perfect brilliance never seen before. You know all the constellations on the night on the Last Day Up North.

     At bedtime, the wind sighs through the branches and the waves sing good night. Tomorrow you'll tie everything up and load everyone in and struggle back home to a neglected house and start over again. If you do it right, you'll go to heaven - which will be wonderful but it will never beat, will never even equal, will never even come close to the Last Day Up North.