Before and After

I used to pack a bag, throw it into the back of my Jeep and drive up to the mountains for the day. I would walk out into the woods by myself, find a spot and park it there. I would sit quietly and think consciously. I would sketch. I would climb the boulders in the river. I would lay with the sun on my face, my body draped across a river rock, while the water rushed around me. I would be alone.

Now a trip to the mountains entails packing for a family of four. Things I never dreamed about hauling up to the woods are now a necessity to survive a three hour road trip. Ipods. Portable DVD players. Cell phones. Snacks. Drinks. Fifteen changes of clothes.

Armed with enough to survive a holocaust, we took the kids to the mountains last weekend. On the way home, we introduced them to creeks with rocks they could climb, smooth stones they could skip, woods they could run in. They weren’t impressed. “I’m supposed to POOP in the woods?!”, my five year old exclaimed. When my husband led him to the perfect pooping spot, he peed on a tree and then came out and said he was finished. No problem. Sure. No big deal. Until the car ride home when he confessed that he wasn’t pooping in the woods ever and that he needed to go… right. now.

I never got to lay on a river rock and listen to the sounds of the river. I was too absorbed in making sure that no one suffered a brain trauma climbing over those slippery-when-wet rocks. Just hearing the sound of the water was enough to remind me that I need to get back out there. But still, it’s different. Now there are people depending on me. I’m not so carefree anymore. I worry about going out into the woods alone. What if? Ideas that never occurred to me in my youth, now creep into the recesses of my mind and keeping me bound to civilization. But seeing my kids play in the little waterfall in the creek… is worth the sacrifice.