Last I checked, I was at the beach. Somehow between then and now I've managed to make my way clear across the country and back to real life. As in, tomorrow is the first day of school and I haven't picked out my outfit except my new mint green shoes.
It all started when we drove back from the beach. I arrived home in Atlanta to an empty house and was forced to hibernate at Sally's house because I am, apparently, scared of the dark.
A few days later I hopped a plane and witnessed a breath-taking sunset as we flew North to Maine. Back to camp - where I really belong.
There's something about camp when just a few of us are around. We were down to a skeleton crew for the weekend. Just four of us left alone on the beautiful grounds without a kid or a counselor in sight.
Left to our own devices, we spent our time taking photos, sipping coffee next to the lake, grilling on the lake and splashing in the water.
When it came time to begin the drive back to Canada I got a late start. It takes forever to drive through Northern Maine because time slows down up there. Gone are the exits, gone are the street lights, gone are the other cars, gone is the cell phone service. It's basically one big prayer, hoping for safe travels and no car trouble.
But it is gorgeous. Mt. Katahdin keeps an eye on you, as moral support.
Funny things happen when you cross the border. All of the sudden you don't know how far away anything is because it is measured in kilometers. And the time changes - to an hour ahead of Eastern. Plus, you have no idea exactly how fast to drive because it's been three months and you can't remember what a speed limit of 110 means in your American car. But then there is a Tim Horton's and their coffee makes everything make sense again. Until it's time to pay and you have nothing but green bills in your wallet.
Ahhh, Canada. I'll get used to it one day.
TC took me to the beach the next day, which made my return that much sweeter.
The water and I speak the same language. No cultural barriers there.