By the creek
We returned for a second year with our ever-growing Sunday school class to the creek near the Peaks of Otter. Compared with the icky-sticky mid-nineties below, the mountain's deep woods were breezy and cool.
The water was freezing, and to be true to myself, I wished I could throw aside the expectations of adulthood and wade right in there with our dozens of kiddos, who no longer cared about age differences or cooties or whatnot. They worked together en masse to build up rocks and tree stumps to try and stop the flow of water. And when that didn't work, they went into explorer mode and play-acted a bear hunt.
When the kids were afar off and the grownups seemed at their most distracted by storytelling, I did too so step into the frigid waters, reveling in feeling so very much alive.
The boys had an amazing time, even if (or perhaps because) they mainly steered clear of each other. We'll take what we can get. Good, clean, cool, fun summer memories.
The water was freezing, and to be true to myself, I wished I could throw aside the expectations of adulthood and wade right in there with our dozens of kiddos, who no longer cared about age differences or cooties or whatnot. They worked together en masse to build up rocks and tree stumps to try and stop the flow of water. And when that didn't work, they went into explorer mode and play-acted a bear hunt.
When the kids were afar off and the grownups seemed at their most distracted by storytelling, I did too so step into the frigid waters, reveling in feeling so very much alive.
The boys had an amazing time, even if (or perhaps because) they mainly steered clear of each other. We'll take what we can get. Good, clean, cool, fun summer memories.
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