40 Pines

I awake to a crackling fire. The good kind; contained in a metal ring. Husband is up early. 

Coffee is on. 

I open my eyes to sun streaming through 

onto my son's perfect, smooth, young skin. 

His hair is more blond than usual. 

The big kids rustle out to join their father, excited for the day. 

What will it behold? 

 Bathing in hot mineral water, climbing rocks, 

panning for gold, 

fishing, eating, reading stories. 

Mama and Dad take their turns in the hammock, counting the tall pines - 40 - surrounding them, while the kids run and ride. 

This weekend we celebrate life, specifically the life of our 12 year old first born and only daughter. 

We camp to commemorate the keeping of time. 

How long since the last trip? 

Almost four years, right before the birth of another sweet life, our third son, last child. 

A breeze flows through, chasing away the heat. I hear robins and some unknown insect chirping about the beauty of the day.

I hear the river skipping down, down, down. 

I smell nothing but the fresh mountain air. 

This is the perfect Summer day.