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NORTHERNETA-Personal Narrative Essay

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THE NORTHERNMOST POINT OF MINNESOTA holds a special place in my heart. There, along the banks of the Rainy River, just across the border from the vast country of Canada, lies my home. The river, broad and brash, is the source of my food and business; I run a fishing resort. Once shiny and destined for greatness, the lodge crumbles under the weathering of the wind, the water, and a thousand footsteps. The cabins, nine in total, sport worn, discolored doorframes and waterlogged, rotten poles used as support beams. Despite the age and appearance of the lodge, I must take pride in it. Having run the lodge for many, many years, I have seen its entire life. A lull in the beginning, then a boom in business. That business has carried me through the years and up til this day. Throughout the years, the preferred season for fishing has become apparent: spring. Fishing is best then; multiple species of fish travel the river to spawn and plenty of people enjoy the calm weather that comes with the warmth of spring. Business dies out towards late summer, around June or July. Which is why, when a stranger turned up at the door in late August, I was incredibly confused.
I had been relaxing in the lodge. There was nothing to be done just yet, and I didn’t feel like getting a head start on winter preparations. I had just picked up an apple and the knife I planned to cut it with when I heard the sharp, hastened knocking on the door. Figures, just when I want to take a moment to myself,

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