We’ve been a little bit of everything.
Awed by the work of the rain gutters.
Dejected on the beach. If that’s possible.
Overly-elated at our balancing abilities.
Undeterred by the thunder and cloud cover on a not-so-105 degree day.
And I mean…
We’ve been so happy…
We don’t care who knows about it.
And we’ve been at peace. Hunkered in a tube…
With a hundred others.
We’ve been far–far away in a book.
A couple of times.
Drained by the cacophony of urban camping.
And been thrilled to be alive, scraping cereal with a plastic fork out of bowl the size of a dog dish.
But today…today at 10:23 a.m. When a certain plane lands in Wenatchee. A plane carrying Husband. And Daddy. A plane allowing us to converge after twelve days a part, we’ll be weepy and unrestrained and pretending we’re not either of those. I mean. We could celebrate with fireworks.
They’ll already be bursting from our hearts.