I walked up from the bathroom to my friend's husband, coffee in one hand, Annie in the other like an outward facing, casted football just breeze right past me towards the camp fire with every intention of planting it in a chair with our youngest for a gradual morning wake up.
**side note: camping kids wake up hella early**
My own husband -- a couple tents down -- was showing two little girls (neither of them my child) how to help take apart (or perhaps put together??) some part of the tent. Gabriel was off with my friend and her son renting what would later become hilarious petal bike chariots, Lucy was hiding out in her bestie's sleeping space and Molly was far across a field, halfway up a tree, all lanky and laughing in the morning sun.
Of all the very many ways to love me... this moment was by far the best.
I think that it is very possible that for the first time in about 13 weeks, I took a deep breath and welcomed in that moment of beautiful and easy.
People sometimes ask how it is possible that Kelly and I manage to survive camping with four smallish children. The answer is so very simple.
We don't. We camp with 17 smallish children.
We know our limits. The power of community is something fierce and magical.
It's loud, chaotic and somebody is almost always naked.
But the chance to charge head strong in to battle with your freak flag just a blowin' in the air?
take a topless, glow-stick, hayride under the stars with your favorites...
coordinate an egg hunt between 19 fast moving, overly exhausted little people...
forever changes your heart.
Where exploration is endless...
The company is vast...
and the sunshine is abundant...
How can you do anything but grow from it?
If only I could capture that much sunshine in my everyday. Oh, the possibilities that would bring.
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