Crunch of tires on gravel and leaves. Cramped, achy people emerging, reaching for the sky, bending down to the ground, twisting, stretching.
Ahhh.
Joyous greetings: grandparents and grandchildren running toward each other open-armed. Hugs, handshakes, pats on the back. Outstretched hands reaching for luggage, bags, miscellany.
Sliding between crisp sheets: The eternity of a week promising unlimited companionship, conversation, adventures, love and joy.
Gentle weight of quilts keeping out the refreshing chill of night air.
Wooden walls gleaming golden under the glow of the sun. Aromas of coffee and bacon. Murmured conversations on the back porch, watching the birds at sunrise, soaking in the trees and the pond and the mist and the mountains.
Hikes. Walks in the woods. Bug bites. Flowers, frogs and interesting rocks.
Fireflies. Fern beds. Moss-covered rocks. Creeks, streams, rivers and lakes.
Campfires. Golden toasted marshmallows melting between chocolate and graham crackers.
Steaks, salads and veggie burgers. Chocolate chip cookies. Cool sweet well water, gin & tonics, Labatt’s Blue.
The boat, the canoe, the four-wheeler.
Hiking boots, Crocs, sandals.
Band-Aids, Neosporin, bug spray and Itch Blocker.
Puzzles, board games and crosswords.
Laughter, chuckles and whispers. Stories and legends, advice and jokes.
Blink.
Sudden shock: the final full day, which rapidly and cruelly turns into the final night. Procrastination around the campfire: too tired to stay up, but don’t want the day to end.
Blink.
Beds stripped, floors swept, final checks under beds and behind dressers.
Suitcases, water bottles, fishing poles, tackle bags. Phones, wallets, glasses and books.
Car packed and repacked. Breakfast dishes washed and dried.
Hovering in the porch. Red-rimmed eyes holding back tears. Hugs.
Long highway stretching ahead, faced by the jaded travelers with grand surprise.
Gradually, barely suppressed tears giving way to stunned silence as the physical distance from family once again expands by the mile.
Beautiful.