That time has come again: the day when my kids leave my house to spend time with their dad at his.
It’s days like today when I slouch on my couch in my hauntingly quiet house and reminisce about how grateful I am to be their mom (while my cats keep my legs warm). I sip slowly on my mint green tea and learn to embrace the ache of my kids leaving every other week. The sweet memories we made between those sour custody days keep my head up and remind me that we have enough of everything we need in this life.
Even if I have to go days without seeing my kids, those sugary memories are with us wherever we go.
Every year, I take the kids on a group camping trip with some friends (and their friends).
It’s a grand ol’ time.
This year was particularly special because after I packed my car, and the rubber met the road, it was my apartment complex in the rearview, not my parent’s house. And I was beaming with further pride for installing a luggage rack onto the top of my car for a roomier ride.
It just happened to be my daughter’s eleventh birthday the day we left for our camping trip, so there was added excitement in the air because I knew what awaited us in our cabin when we arrived. Our friends decorated the inside of our cabin with streamers, balloons, and Dollar Tree ‘Happy Birthday’ signs.
The look on my daughter’s face was priceless when she realized it was all for her.
How much tension we hold in our bodies from the previous year always amazes me. And how it magically subsides when we pull up to our green cabin on that rocky road the following year.
After we settled in that night (and the kids squabbled over who would get what room), we strolled down the dirt ridge with flashlights to a wide open field and ran barefoot through the wet grass with S’mores-eating grins on our faces.
The following morning, I filled our cabin with the smell of applewood smoked bacon, maple sausage, and homemade French toast, and then we headed out to explore the campground. We watched a doe frolic with her young fawns in the same field I did with mine the night before. We inhaled the clean, Redwood-filled air, and I even learned to appreciate the mammoth moth perched near our cabin porch light that night.
We spent the next few days at the lake; my kids spent hours washing their worries away in the invigoratingly cool lake, and I spent those same hours splashing around with them or in awe of these little humans who are the bright, brilliant lights of my life.
Last year, I focused on what we didn’t have — a perfect family anymore. I wallowed in sad songs and wrote about missing my ex-husband while camping in the Redwoods.
This year and forever, I will miss the radiant family I had. And know, deep down, that if my kids are thriving, I’m in a ‘my-cup-is-overflowing’ kind of space, and my ex-husband is in good health — we have more than enough.
My cup runneth over at Lake Francis Resort.
Thank you for reading. ❤
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Previously Published on Medium
Internal images courtesy of author
featured image iStock
