In the Middle of Summer: A Note from the Firelight

Somewhere between s’mores and sleepovers, I realized how fast this summer is moving. So fast, I’m catching my breath as I write.

We’ve been traveling. Camping. Reconnecting. Living in layers—visiting family and creating memories.

Each visit is a thread in the tapestry:

Time with my children’s biological family in the Midwest—my own adoptive roots.

Time with my biological family in the West.

A glimpse into our shared, vast, braided lineage—tender, complex, and real.

The girls are swimming laps and giggling with cousins.

We’re cooking over open flames, building tents, teaching fire safety beside creeks.

There are no filters. No curated photoshoots. Just the real stuff.

We fight. We make up.

They tease each other relentlessly. I sigh over cups of coffee and start over each day.

Last week, I was the greatest mama ever.

And I was hated—*hated*—after a reprimand that began with pool floaties.

The REAL real stuff.

The kind that slips through your fingers if you’re not careful.

We’re grabbing it. Holding it. Living it.

This summer is respite and roots. An unraveling of the year.

A reminder to be *here*.

I don’t have any answers. Just forward motion.

One thing I do know is this:

Family—however it’s built—is worth showing up for.

Joy—however fleeting—is worth chasing.

And presence, even in the midst of chaos, is the deepest kind of prayer.

We’re still in the middle of it all. Catching our breath.

Holding on tightly to one another.

—Charlynn