The beautiful day beckoned us to the water and the boat. November on Rainy Lake is usually blustery or foggy but this crisp, sunny morning was perfect for a run to Fawn and John’s cabin. It felt like the four of us had the lake to ourselves, not another soul did we see.
Unencumbered with luggage and supplies, we cruised swiftly over the waves, our coffee thermos and wine bottles sitting alongside John’s portable oxygen tank. It was to be a brief trip; just long enough to relax on the deck for a few hours and pick up guitars that shouldn’t be left there for the winter.
Picking up the guitars was a good excuse to take one more trip; to bask in the familiar comfort of best friends and let the ritual of heading up the lake mark the beginning of our goodbye to John. Because what we all knew but no one said was that, short of a miracle, this would be the last time all four of us would be together.