I would have thought that after nine summers on Birch Island, it would become easier to describe to others what Mi-a-kon-da has meant to me. In truth, it only seems to get harder. My time at Mi-a-kon-da has shaped and changed me more than I can ever truly put into words. This is the place where I developed the confidence to believe in myself, played my first song on guitar, completed my first eskimo roll. This is the place where I heard loons call cross the water, floated candles, listened to wind in trees, felt the Canadian Shield. This is the place where I made friendships that transcend summers and distance, felt at home, became who I am. This is the place where I grew up. I am enormously thankful to have found a home at Mi-a-kon-da; those of us lucky enough to have spent summers on Birch Island are never the same.