getting out

Sometimes going away is the key to unlocking the present.



The gift of time away together is one of the most tremendous gifts I can give our family. For whatever reason, when away from the intensity of our day to day, our best selves shine. The transitions and naps and hours logged in the car feel almost effortless. The kids are so darn elated to be with us all day. We're so happy not to have anything more pressing than our next meal to worry about. There's an unprecedented presence to it all.


There are the unexpected activities (or rather, things you never expected you'd be a part of).


Things we've never tried. That we'd love to try again.



Things splendid in their simplicity.


Simple beauty. The beauty in repetition.


When all we have is the sun and the sand. The dunes and our ratty array of sand toys. A giant kite. A couple of bikes.



Sweatshirts and sunscreen. The rhythm of the tides, sunsets, happy hours.



When moving from alone time to kid time to recreational time is so seamless because they are all so appealing.


And where would be without our friends and family. The way that they so wholly embrace our loud, ecstatic, unpredictable set. Roll with us.


Encourage us to actually eat without our children. How simple this concept is! How much I've pushed the chaotic family dinner on us all. But when we spend all day together the dining table is trumped. Let the children meander through their meals, toss their food, dunk them in the tub and call it a night. Salmon and steaks await. A big glass of wine. A table full of ideas and thoughts. Adults. What a concept.

So here we are. Back home. Staring down the last few weeks of summer. Trying to not get too engulfed in the idea of another seasonal shift, another dramatic shake to our attempts at ebb and flow.

And so many questions to bring to the table. How to stay equal players in it all? How to stay present when we go back to living by the school bell. How to not worry so intensely about everything? When I bring Sol to day-care for, gulp, the whole day. And Elie has a new classroom and a new daily routine. I breathe deep and look up from the computer. The sky is perfect above the north hills. The sun just warm enough. My coffee finally cold. It's time to press forward. To bring our lessons back into the day. To stop pouring over these insane and gorgeous images. To surrender to change. To the blessings in every detail.