There is always that quiet moment each spring that begins with the first fluttering of warm air swirling by your face. You feel the air thick with the promise of Lilacs and Tulips, and your memories return to Mackinac. I have always marked my years with the summers that I lived on Mackinac Island and the summers that I was able to return. Each return was just a brief moment in my life. By each return was a lasting impression. There is something magical about that Island. You can leave Mackinac and never return, but you can never get away from its lure.