Escape

We camped and hiked Deception Pass this weekend. It was just a two-day excursion but it felt like we reset our lives and everything going forward will have a new tone. I love that feeling.

We took a lot of pictures. I'll post a few here this week.

We wandered on rocky beaches, set our toes out to dry on sandy strips of sun, held hands as a family, and watched our daughter explore landscapes that made our hearts soar. We even, while Cora took an unexpected late-afternoon nap on Brian's back, clinked plastic cups of chilled sparkling wine while watching the sun make its lazy descent in the sky.

There were a lot of trees. Cora always says hello to trees. She pats them gently and gives them a sniff. There were also many bugs. She is fascinated by anything that moves, and wants to befriend whatever that might be. She tried to kiss a bug of questionable origin at our campsite; when asked not to do so, she bent down very, very close to it and said hello. She also waved.

The landscape and the sun was like a shot to our winter-weary souls. But it was the dreaminess we felt together that made me feel transported. (It is wonderful to dream alone. It is deeply comfortable to dream with a friend. Even more so to dream with a partner. The world seems to open up. Possibilities abound.)

There were long moments of gazing out at dark water catching light in the breeze, of wondering how fast we would go if the current caught us. We imagined boats, a variety of sizes and shapes, with sleeping nooks and sunny sterns; wind in our faces and little picnic baskets filled with small and delicious lunches; craggy ports and sunny scapes.

We dreamed about adventures and peaceful dwellings, old age and an old love, Cora growing up with a reverence for all living things and that which preserves them--for salt water and colored rocks and dandelion puffs, tiny bugs and warbling birds, cold night air and a sky filled with stars, views that change the way you see the world.