We arrived to our campsite and had a lovely weekend exploring at the base of the mountain (Mom and me) and climbing to the summit (everyone else). A couple of my siblings weren’t able to come on the first day because of their schedules, so partway through the long weekend, Dad hiked back out to get them.
We all fell silent as our eyes rested on the heavy, steel coffee pot leaning against the rocks surrounding the fire. Ed’s laughter died awkwardly away as he realized we weren’t laughing with him, but he had to clear his throat for quite a while to stave off the giggles.
At the end of our camping trip, we walked back out with our heavy packs and our moans of dread. But we’d descended only a couple of miles when we came to a bit of underbrush and discovered what looked exactly like our very own wheelbarrow tucked into a bush.
I collapsed on the ground, laughing with relief and gratitude and giddy exhaustion. Then we all piled our backpacks into that wheelbarrow and took turns balancing it as it rolled by itself down the trail to our van.
I can still picture my brother shoving the empty wheelbarrow up the trail ahead of himself, brows knit together in consternation over the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. But he did it. Even though we were ridiculous, my family literally heaved grace up the mountain to us.
Thanks, you guys. :)
Originally posted 05jul12.