Remember how I left my camera at the cabin? I have it back now and looking through its memory has convinced me that I actually left my heart there as well. The cabin is a magical place for children. The world is far, far away there and it must feel to them like a never ending land of tall trees, soft, sifty dirt, sticks, rocks, breezy winds and hours upon, endless hours- of pretend.
This time, a pile of once white and clean socks met their untimely deaths, a group of little girls turned into a wolf pack, marshmallows melted into smores, the tree swing soared kids as high as they wanted to go, rocks were made into masterpieces and the motorcycle never stopped it's trek up and down the road.
There are hard things about life and there are stressful times full of homework, trial, challenge and concern and those days are exactly what transform a dirty old wash into something beautiful to me. I sat at the top one afternoon while Cali slept back at the cabin. I closed my eyes and just listened to the sound of my children lost in their play.
It was the sound of peace.
I guess I have an unproven theory that if I create enough carefree for my kids that somehow it will all add up and they will be able to pull those happy memories out and use them as a weapon when they go to battle in the war of life.
We had fun. We made memories and we came home ready to face everything a little better. I am so grateful for those few days of refueling. It left me with piles and piles of laundry and a ton of unpacking and putting away but I would do it a 100 times over.
See, I told you I left my heart at the cabin.