I lay in a bed that’s not mine. It’s rustic (-ish). Kind of like the cabin itself. Which lends itself to roughing it (-ish). A storm rages outside. The rain is not exactly pitter-pattering against the open windows. More like solid pounds, demands really. Listen. To. Me. And I do. I whole-heartedly give into all of the sensations surrounding me. Every fiber of my being is listening, smelling, feeling…something.
Lightning flashes over the lake. A surprisingly cool breeze flows over me. The elusive window fan, that everyone covets but no one seems to actually own, whirrs solidly, rhythmically, soothingly. Almost magically, it doesn’t overpower anything else. Which is more than just fine by me.
Because every lightning flashing-rain pounding-skin tingling-body stretching sensory kick-in-the-butt that I soak into my core, my being, my heart, rejuvenates me with pure…Joy.
The girls are still giggling upstairs. Brody’s little back rises and falls as he sleeps in the pack and play next to us. Smooshed so impossibly close to this unfamiliar bed that he could (in theory) climb right on out. And he has (in reality). Or at the very least reach out and tap me. And for the record, he has done this, too.
The decaf brewed to keep us company as we get nostalgic with old friends, staying up way later than any of us have any business doing, still envelops me. It’s warm, cozy, familiar.
Jason and I lay side by side, shoulder to shoulder, toe-to-toe. Our breathes have been connected for a decade now. And we breathe together well. Our fingers entwined, much like our lives. And we take it all in. This is us.
This moment in time is practically bursting at the seams with peace and quiet, stillness and cool warmth. It gifts us the chance to embrace the family that we’ve become, complete with faults, yells and tantrums. It represents our hard work, our places traveled, our paths changed. It embodies our Joy.
It’s the moment that erases the swampy, murky water (otherwise known as the bestbeachever by my children). The forgotten towels, the sandy sandwiches, the all-children-still-awake-at-11:PM!-11:PM! And the mosquitoes. So. Many. Mosquitoes.
All of that. Forgotten. Emptied from our harried souls. Which are now rejuvenated. Replenished with sun kissed faces, many, many rounds of charades and the ooiest-of-gooiest-of-s’mores.
No computers, no phones, no deadlines, no meetings. Call it whatever you’d like- blissful, a blessing, a mini-vacation. But the cherry on top of all of those gems? Is Joy.