Sometimes the only thing better than a great photograph is the story behind it. And vice versa, too. And other times, nothing at all is better than the picture itself. We all know that pictures taken while adventuring as a family are rarely more than snapshots. However they are snapshots that capture the fondest of memories for us parents.
I woke up in my tent, cozy and warm with just a hint of light glowing outside. It was dead quiet. Rain must've stopped, I thought. I considered getting up to start the coffee and plan a hike, but I could tell it was much colder outside than I'd approve of. So I pulled up a book on my Kindle to read a while.
And then it seemed like a car crash happened just outside my tent door—but I knew better . . .
There are only certain types of folks who find great pleasure in driving long washboard roads in Mexico that end at barren crowd-free beaches. Fortunately, a few of them are my friends and we happen to be raising kids around the same ages. Earlier this year we made a trek down through ol' Mexico . . .
I stopped and looked around for another way. He, on the other hand, rolled by me on the passenger side, draped a wrist at 12:00 on the wheel, and entered the sludge at a creep. Life as we knew it unfolded in slow motion. The front tires touched the water and went down. They didn't stop, but they sank with such a dreamy, cartoonish pace that those of us watching had enough time to process, react, and theorize. So, we laughed . . .
All the elements were in place for this little multi-family autumn getaway a couple of weeks ago. A sea of camp chairs, a near-empty foil tray that used to have a few dozen of Tori's special home made cookies, aspen trees turning a sun-yellow color, headlamps on heads, special kids-only tent filled with community toys, fading glow sticks on the ground, yawning children slouching in their dads' laps, a fabulous moon, a sky full of stars, friendly chatter and jokes . . .