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Dear Leila, I know I promised to write weeks ago, but life out here has a way of swallowing the days whole. I'm finally sitting down with a cup of tea and a spare hour, so here's my long-overdue letter from the edge of the world. As you know, I took the summer job at the Cedar Point Lodge, up the coast, mostly on a whim. I was tired of the city and wanted to try something completely different, and I certainly got my wish. The lodge is a three-hour boat ride from the nearest town, with no roads in and barely any cell signal. For the first week I felt as though I'd been dropped onto another planet, and I honestly wondered whether I'd made a terrible mistake. But something shifted after that. I work at the front desk in the mornings, checking guests in and helping them plan their hikes, and in the afternoons I often go out with the guided kayak trips. Yesterday we paddled out at dawn and watched a pod of dolphins cross the bay, so close that I could hear them breathe. Moments like that make the early starts more than worth it. The other staff have become like a little family. We cook enormous dinners together, play cards until midnight, and no one here cares in the slightest what you did back in the "real" world. I've laughed more this summer than in the whole year before it. I do miss you, though, and Mom's terrible jokes, and being able to walk into a café and order a decent coffee whenever I please. My contract ends in September, and I've been thinking that instead of flying straight home, I might take the long way and stop to see you in Halifax for a few days. Would that suit you at all? I'd love to tell you everything in person. Write back when you can — the mail boat only comes on Thursdays. Love, Nadia