You come from the hill by the lake. It’s dotted with wooden huts that overlook the water. On long Saturdays, campers sit on towels stretched below the summer sun—barefooted, knees bent. Or toss frisbees, rest on the rise and fall of a kindred’s chest, seek shade. Come nightfall, heads tilt toward every star in a midsummer sky. …
I found myself on a flight to California the other day to visit family. As we boarded the aircraft, touching our fingertips to the fuselage, these could be my last steps on earth, I think, and then again as we slowly taxi down the runway, these, my last moments in life. Morbid, maybe, but I …
Thirty-five is the rhythm of everyday life. It’s seeing someone and thinking, I knew you well once. It’s knowing where you are happiest—but how to cope when you can’t be there. Thirty-five is realizing you’ve lived twice as long as the counselors caring for your kids at camp. It’s getting dizzy on the roller coasters …
I’ll spend much of this summer at my alma mater overnight camp with my three sons. I’ll work in the front office while the boys enjoy programming designed for staff kids. Each day, we’ll step outside to the dewy chill of early morning air. Come nightfall, we’ll huddle under fleece blankets in a modest bunk–two rooms …
One year. It’s been nearly one year since I began this blog. Since I started writing regularly. And I’m sitting here in disbelief. That it’s been a full year. That it’s been only a year. Time is funny that way. When I set out a mere several hundred days ago, I never could have known …
Dina L. Relles 