There are times I love to be all by myself, but that rarely happens in my house. Kids run in and out all day long. Last night my husband and I counted 34 kids (ages 4 to 18) running around our yard playing night games. I set out water pitchers, cups, licorice and bags of chips and was immediately swarmed.
I'm not compaining.
Not one bit.
I love it, I really do. There is an infectious energy that hums in the air when I watch memories being made before my eyes.
I'm just glad that I was able to recharge my soul somewhere this last week.
The mountains were calm and refreshing, the stars, brilliant and bright.
I lounged at night in my reclining camp chair, the last one awake. I watched the embers of the fire slowly burn out, enjoying the warmth near my feet and the chill from the cool night air on my head.
The everyday world around me was silenced.
No hum of things plugged in.
There was only the symphony of the wind rustling the leaves overhead.
Birds chirped, frogs croaked and crickets played their song of love. The lake rippled and the deer wandered close. My lungs took in the clean, crisp air. I gazed at the Big Dipper with all of her friends and my eyes wondered at the beauty around me.
It's good to get away.
It's good to come home.