We decided on a morning hike, pulled t-shirts over mismatched pajamas and fastened shoes that sat unworn for days.
Raindrops began tapping at leaves high above our heads as we headed down the drive.
Waiting for the first to touch our noses, we wondered about umbrellas or turning back.
Adventurous eyes barreled ahead in search of walking sticks with Daddy, broken to the perfect height for each.
He dulled the edges and handed them over to wows and that’s mines, little feet already leading our way as if they knew the path.
We counted flower colors and days of the week, marched and skipped and marched again. Picked up and carried and put back down to barter over different walking sticks, and found pine cones hidden in folded hands.
The lake peaked through every cottage, dimpled with rain.
Sandals tangled with leaves as walking sticks were abandoned for “next time” leaving hands free to hold just in time to head back inside.
We followed the latest designated “leader” up the cottage steps,
never feeling a single rain drop.
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