04/27/2025
It is with mixed emotion that I make this final post in regards to our 20 years of renting Picture Perfect for women's retreats. What started as just a vision after going away on a relaxing weekend 22 years ago, turned into way more than I could have ever imagined. I received an email this morning from the final group of lovely ladies spending their last weekend at our home and it brought tears to my eyes. They are allowing me to share it and I could not have said it better myself. Thank you JP and friends. Please feel free to leave a comment with your favorite memory. We appreciate each and every one of you. If you are ever in Michigan City, please stop by Beachwalk and have a chat (and perhaps a cocktail) on the porch with us!
Reflection:
I believe in sacred spaces. That when we step into a house, a room, a path — the energy of everything that has ever happened there still hangs in the air and surrounds us. I am grateful every day for the artisans who built my house 100 years ago and the families who have cared for it since. I accept that I live among the echoes of their laughter, angst, love, tears, break-ups. I’m honored to be a part of it.
I remember that the first time I was in this house I was so curious about who owned it and what they did when they were here. I imagined the excited footsteps of young children tracking sand everywhere after a day at the beach with hungry stomachs waiting for some yummy meal to come off the grill. I saw my place as a guest that helped make that family’s summer memories possible.
Then spring to fall, spring to fall, we created memories of our own, and over time, my connection to this house grew so much deeper.
I don’t believe there is any other place on earth for me right now that provides what this house has been for me. A place where I feel lighter just walking into it. A place that relaxes me in a way I don’t relax anywhere else. The place where at lease twice a year, I fall so deeply asleep I wake up not knowing where I am.
The biggest reason I wanted to write this reflection, and say some things out loud at this fork in our road, is so that I can thank you all for what you have given to me under this roof. Friendship with the introverted me can be a slow burn, but burn slow with me you all did, until real friendships developed. Every time, a sincere “How are you.” And so much listening to the variety of ways I have answered that question. I think more than anyone I have brought my pain through the door and you all met that with compassion and empathy, even when it may have impacted your own relaxation. I love how the caring we do for our families is never completely shut off when we are together, as we care for each other in so many little ways. The time I have spent with you exceptional mothers has somehow helped me to see myself as a strong mother in a way I never would have on my own. For me — I know for some of you too — these weekends have evolved from extravagance to requirement. I am convinced that our time together makes us more exceptional mothers, daughters, spouses, people.
What we have created here is the MOST sacred of spaces. That is why it is so painful for me to be leaving it. And even though wherever we go from here, there we will be, it is helpful to me to imagine that we have forever changed this space, and the magic of us will hang in this air forever…
The magic of a deep breath, the magic of YES. The magic of All will be Well. Creative juice magic. Bunk-bed rejecting we-deserve-our-own-rooms magic. The hear-us-roar motherhood magic. SISTERHOOD magic. The magic of mojo bags and crystals. Of the Fruit Fly Warriors. And of any time wine. And cocktails. Of Margaret’s unsweetened cinnamon light soy lattes (Christmas in a cup). Of Haley’s Comet. Of Grilled Cheesus. Of the One Where Things Were Simply the Best.
And won’t a part of Mary Ann always be in her corner. Won’t there always be the slightest vibration of my conversations with her late at night after everyone had gone to sleep… and a comforting hum of warm conversation in the morning in the kitchen. The quiet clicking of one of us letting ourselves out the door for a morning walk or a shopping excursion. Won’t there always be a faint smell of bacon and a subtle glow from the table where Chris assembled so many amazing meals for us. And perhaps a vortex in the middle of the main floor where we hug each other hello, and “until next time.”
I like to think that in the loving way we have shared the details of our children’s lives with each other in this space, they have grown up here along with with Gary and Mary’s children. The sandy feet still echo. But here, a child makes beautiful music, there another dances, another sees they have been accepted to college, another models her prom dress. More than one is outside at various times, not having anything to do with us. And there’s one with her ring. Hundreds of stories shared throughout the years… of pride, of happiness, of angst. But aren’t they all just finding their way in the exact way that they should.
So thank you, sweet house. Thank you bathrooms we don’t have to clean, and the whirlpool tub. Your private rooms of purple, yellow, blue, green. Your perfectly lit great room of work tables and couches with the giant tv. Thank you kitchen with your loaves and fishes island. We give thanks to the window, to the window, to the wall, to the wall. We are honored to be your closers. We were the obvious and perfect choice.
May the energy of this special place — and the echoes of our joy — energize and comfort Gary and Mary in their forever home. We are profoundly grateful to them for welcoming us here these past 16 years. We wish them a beautiful life as we go off to live our beautiful lives. And... we hereby lovingly accept that it is time for us to go.
