five days...

Five days. That’s all. As of July 23, our complete family had been in Decatur for only five 24 hour periods since summer started. On only five nights had we all laid our heads on the pillows designated for us. And for only five days had we been a full “family.” Dad was in England for 3 weeks, I was at Summit for 2, Casey was at camp for 2, and mom and dad hit a choral convention for another weekend. It’s been such an odd summer, but a cool one too because we’ve had to learn to connect and cope with only portions of our family unit. Forinstance, last week when mom and dad were gone and Casey was at camp, TJ and I had the house to ourselves for a few days. It was interesting to get to learn some things just about him…something I don’t often get the chance to do. I watched his ball games, talked with him about his friends, played with him in the rain, and learned that he’s man enough to not only endure but suggest chick flicks every once in a while. He has such a sweet spirit and I saw it in a renewed way during our 48 hours together. Cool stuff…little bro stuff…stuff I should never forget to notice.

So, anyways…5 days…and now suddenly we’re on vacation…relaxing and soaking up the beautiful Colorado air as a family. I love it! Just being in the car together all day for the first time in as long as I can remember was WEIRD, but such a great time to re-connect and tell stories and laugh. TJ told jokes, Dad rewrote state songs as we crossed each border, Casey slept a ton, I read and observed the scenery. Mom did a little of everything…utilizing her regular “little bags.” These are a family joke…somehow she always manages to jam about 15 of them between the front seats when we head out for an excursion. There’s the snack bag, the cosmetic bag, the reading bag, the activity bag, the “I really should do it but probably won’t till I get back” bag…etc. Over the course of the trip these bags usually migrate past us kids (“dude, Cheese-its?? Cool!!”) and into the trunk. She read some Dave Barry to us on the way and kept dad awake. That night we enjoyed quality time by the pool at the hotel and consumed way too much Chinese take-out. Ahhh…vacation.

Since we’ve been here we’ve done nothing and everything…all the normal haunts but nothing seemingly significant. If any of you were ever to accompany us on a vacation, you might shake your head at our rituals and occupations here in the beautiful rocky mountains. But you’d just have to deal with it. The very roads and trees up here carry significance, memories, and adventure for our family. We hike through Tin Cup, the only town within an hour (summer population about 300) and visit the beaver dams just beyond it. We enjoy a piece of pie at the café and look through post cards in the gift shop…the same 45 prints that they’ve had since I was 6. Dad always points out the large safes, which are the only remnants of the booming mining town that tin cup once was (over 3500 people at its peak). We visit the lily-pad pond…which has varying levels of water, lilies, and cow pies each year. We find our favorite scenic spot and take approximately 15 pictures in front of the peaks, which slice the blue sky in the same pattern as always. One of our favorite days is the “Taylor Canyon Picnic” day. On this momentous occasion we travel past the reservoir and down into the river canyon about 10 miles until we come to a campground that mom and her family visited every year when she was young. This river, filled with boulders and fly fisherman is perfect for a cooler and some blankets and a relaxing day. The activities rarely change. Jump rock to rock upstream for as long as possible…fall in if necessary…find a rock big enough to sit on for a while and just reflect. Take a nap on a blanket. Look for mountain goats on the cliffs above. Select a perfect boat (stick, branch, or even tree stump) and throw it in with the rest of the family…race downstream to the appointed finish line…cheer and/or dispute the winner…repeat. Journal and read. Fish. Eat sandwiches and entirely too many Oreos. This day always promotes good conversation and brings out the “frolick” in the parents. Actually, it should be noted that there was some new activity this year…mom and I and dad crossed a felled tree on hands and knees to reach a small island in the middle…quite an adventure! Oh…and it rained during lunch this year so we ate under the protective back doors of Grandpa’s jeep and our van backed together. Quite good…quite good!!

Of course, I have not yet mentioned the fishing, which is a daily task in the streams below our cabin. Groups venture out at all hours of the day to find their prey and enjoy the game of sneaking in on calm pools, dropping a juicy worm into the rapids above, and waiting for that satisfying jerk. Great fun…nothing like it. Nor can I say that I enjoy anything quite so much as the crisp mountain air and the way that you are completely out of breath by the time you climb the hill coming home.

And while the scenery and the activities never change, we keep coming back to this place…it’s a group of people…a stunning environment…a valley of memories, which holds not just stability but something new each time we make the trek. We’ve enjoyed Grandma’s great cooking all week…pondered and reflected on life, which somehow becomes silhouetted by the powerful nature around us…and caught up on all the family news. I can hardly believe that we’ll be coming home in a day!! I think I can sympathize with Dash and say, “That was like the best vacation EVER!!! …I love our family…”