Life, with its rules, its obligations, and its freedoms, is like a sonnet: You’re given the form, but you have to write the sonnet yourself.
― Madeleine L’Engle, A Wrinkle in Time
Kristen and I spontaneously packed the kids into the car on Friday to meet our sister-in-law and nieces at the coast — a 6-hour roundtrip from our home. After spending so much time in the ‘Burban at the beginning of summer, it felt almost second-hand to pile our six kids in with books and snacks and towels and lunches and drinks and shovels and chairs and the stroller. And aside from the 7 bathroom stops on the way home–one that occurred using a water-bottle and no stopping–and the horrible rain-turned-hail-storm we hit on the way home, the day seemed strategically perfect, a sandy, exhausting tribute to summer’s end.
On another note, I still have two weeks worth of summer travels to share with you. I don’t know why, but I always imagine I have more time than I actually do. All things normal have become strange with our new transitions, and in so many ways, I’m learning all things new again. I’ll be back soon.