There are moments in a family’s life that you just want to push pause, take a picture, and stow away for a rainy day. Yesterday I had one of those moments.
We went for a little hike to the falls near our camp. Our youngest daughter kept saying, “I saw that last year,” and getting more and more excited because she remembered it. Our oldest daughter gave her a piggyback ride down the steps, and our youngest son ran on ahead like an 11-head-old boy with too much energy.
The trail ends where the falls meet Lake Superior on a rock-strewn sandy beach. Someone had tried to dam the river and our four year old went to work hauling stones to contribute to the dam, which, since she can’t say “bad” words, she called doing damage.
Our son went to climb the sand dune, which he did more quickly than any adult could manage, and our teenage daughter sat with us on the beach looking at stones.
“I could look at stones all day,” my husband said.
“Only if they’re next to water,” I piped up. “You’d never sit in the driveway and sort stones.” But the gentle waves of the big lake make rock picking seem fascinating.
And it hit me. This was one of those moments when I want to freeze my family, like a little diarama I made in middle school. Everyone was content. Everyone was in love with each other as a family. And that’s another reason we drive all day to vacation in the UP of Michigan.