I’m just not that picture taking Grandma, however, I can tell you that the Big Meadow seemed more beautiful than ever. There were thirty of us this time and it had been a while since we had circled the wagons amongst those majestic trees. We were 3 generations strong and had eleven grandchildren in tow.
The creek was the same, sweet and bubbly and heading down, it’s quiet serenade never-ending. The fish were biting and we were catching. We left the invasion of TV and viruses and hatefulness behind for 4 blessed days.
Oh, there were riots… but they were over marshmallows and how burned they could be. Yes, there were protests; but it was over going to bed too early. There were even opinions over masks, but that was because there was only one and it was Spider-Man and everyone wanted to wear it. There was even a party but it was not political, it was a 5-year-olds birthday celebrated in grand style with a cake sent up by Old Grams.
There was even a live sports event with the set up of a ping pong table. Nightly concerts where” seasoned “performers played and an 8-year-old made her musical debut in front of a live audience. That took guts Charlet!!
We knew we’d come home and there would be more turmoil in the world, that there would be Alzheimer’s, there would be business and work and news and people who don’t agree but it was all okay for those 4 days, and the Big Meadow will always be there, the trees as sentry, their swaying gently in the wind. Bending, not breaking, reaching up. The same as always.