We are here.

Thirty-four hours and eight states later, the world could not be more different.

We drove through a real live thunderstorm today. It was so strange to experience actual weather, the skies bawling up and cracking and flashing and gushing. Like they were alive.

Tonight my hair smells like campfire and the distinct scent of bug spray clings deliciously to my skin and clothes. There are bits of firework ash in my hair and melted marshmallow in the corners of my lips.

I am irresistible.

And David, caught up in the romance and magic of a Midwest summer evening, kissed me hard and promised me that someday we would live in a lake house.

He couldn't help himself. Tonight I am as irresistible as summer itself.

I laughed and told him I didn't believe him.

But the truth is, tonight, under the stars, with the quiet lake shimmering in front of us, my children snuggled in the camper with their cousins and their sleepy grins, I could believe almost anything.