In so many ways I can’t believe it’s over, but I think it’s about time to wrap these tales up; to get back to the present, to make new adventures. I’ve really enjoyed sharing this these with you, this wonderful little community on the web. It makes me feel like I get to bring you with me in a some way. Here’s my last journal entry. Hopefully you enjoyed our little journey.
Two weeks isn’t much time really, but cuts and scabs healed in this time, the moon waxed and waned and I was changed, even if only ever so slightly.
I thought about this now as I watched the clouds pour over the cliffs surrounding the harbor on our last night. If anything, I know now that I’m more capable of patience in times of frustration and stress than I ever thought I could be as a child laying in my room crying hysterically over some tiff with my parents or fight with my sisters; breaking the shoe phone I earned from selling gift wrap because of my bad temper. I know more of what my family members need and have more clues that show me how I can help them to be their best.
The most important lesson from this trip? Be willing to help, be capable of letting things go.
Sometimes I wanted to sleep in later, eat dinner earlier, not hike to the next beach over.
One morning Scott and I lay half asleep in each other’s arms talking about the details of our dreams. Next thing I know, my dad needs help with the kayak and Scott leaves our sleep soaked state to assist him. Then the engine’s on and diesel fumes are climbing into my lungs like hungry monsters. While I’m in the bathroom shaving the boat flies and dives over the waves on gusts of air like a tern hungry for her next meal. There’s a squall and huge swells and other boat words for rough barf-a-licious seas. I cut my armpit and want to throw up everywhere. I don’t. I go upstairs. I want to complain, so I do. But not in a this is everyone else’s fault, I want to go home kind of way, but in a this is a funny adventure, we will always talk about these trips, kind of way.
I’ve tried to learn that you have to look at it this way. You have to laugh when you can. And not just because my family members aren’t immortal vampires who have all the time in the world to be together like I sometimes wish, but because it helps us grow as individuals. And while we’re doing that, we’re growing together.
So you mostly don’t say “You cleat this!” or “I want my playlist!” or our personal family favorite “Sucks to suck!” or maybe sometimes you do, but you smile and you hug and you remember to say sorry and then you write it all down so you can remember what makes you a family.