Dinkey Creek

This past weekend we headed out of the suburbs. We passed city scapes and acres of farm. We drove up, up, up; enveloped with pine growing high overhead. We arrived at the place where so many of Lucas' childhood dreams and memories were made: Dinkey Creek.

This was my first time on the hallowed ground of Dinkey.

We arrived to soup bubbling on the stove and the sun hanging low on the ground. It felt cozy, quiet, warm. Norah, Sammie, and Avery sat around the campfire for stories about monsters, witches, and princesses. We ate s'mores. We crowded into bug infested tents and tried to sleep.

We visited the log cabin store for ice cream treats; just as Lucas, his sisters, and his cousins had done when they were kids. We traversed a trail down to a breath-taking bridge. The girls swam in little stream pools, climbed rocks, dug in the dirt. Their feet and faces caked in brown. Their legs and arms, scuffed and scraped.

We got dirty. We got bug bites. We didn't sleep. Cousins played and fought, but mostly played. We cooked over the fire - made hot cakes at the camp stove, boiled spicket water for dishes. The girls refused to sleep - hopped up on s'mores and summer fun. More memories were made; a tradition continued.

The last day, I was ready to pack up. S'mores are delicious, nature a temple. But, I am a city girl. We drove down, down, down. The girls slept. Music and air conditioning filled my lungs. We came home to hot showers, soft beds, rooms to hide away in.

I know more than ever that I need doors that close and open; time to curl up. A home. But now, with a few days of rest and coffee- I am ready to say I'd do it all again. My girls have more dreams and memories just waiting to be made there.