Like most people, I resist labels. I recoil at being called shy. I bristle when called a leader. I even dislike being called a vegetarian.
Yet one adjective that I fully own up to is restlessness. It is an everpresent companion, the force that makes me fidget, fret, and pursue mischief.
So when I started feeling shackled by routine and enslaved by mundane chores, I knew that I needed to get out of town.
Husband and I hastily asked our bosses for Friday off, threw our camping gear into the car, and set off for Madeline Island. There I rediscovered the unbelievable iciness of Lake Superior. The joy of lying on warm sand. The release of giving in to rain and becoming completely soaked. The coziness of falling asleep to the sound of rain, safe and dry in the tent.
How refreshing it is to simply gaze upon an unfamiliar horizon.
And being away for even two days makes coming home a novelty, piles of laundry and to-do lists and all. And as cozy as a tent is, it has nothing on a real bed.
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