Traditions Get Better With Age

I have to tell you,
this weekend I went from giggly to awe... 
You know that feeling when you suddenly recognize how wonderful something is,
and the world just feels so right.

Actually, my blogging friend Fiona used the expression gob-smacking recently and I love that...
that is probably a better choice of words.

Okay, let me explain.
Every year for the past 4 years, we have been the family responsible for driving my daughter and her friend Jane up to Tadoussac to their summer jobs.

We load the car up with all their stuff.... 
oh and they have got stuff.
We shove the dog in to the back seat between the two girls
and head out in our overloaded vehicle to one of our favourite places.... Tad.

Jane's family has a cottage there that they have owned with their extended family ...

since forever.

One of those places where every object that seems to be casually lying about has a story.
There are multiple sets of china and white painted furniture thrown in with blue painted furniture, 
and yellow walls and white walls and plain wood walls,
and nothing matches 
which is just pure heaven 
and then there are these amazing views of varying degrees from every window.

Usually, it is the 4 of us.... oh and the dog.
Traditionally I prepare a nice dinner, we walk the beach, enjoy good stories about previous summers and the girls imagine all the possibilities that lie ahead in the next 4 months.
It is nice... really nice.

But this year, the tradition got a slight adjustment.
And initially some members of our entourage were a little unsure about how that would feel.
After all, it had always been our tradition. 
The 4 of us.

But 4 quickly became 9
as their gang of close friends jumped in cars and headed up to join us.

So, what exactly is the awe?
I know, I know
that is where this started.

Well, the awe was just that.
We found ourselves spending the weekend with 7 amazing young adults.

I cooked dinner as I usually do, they got the fire going
because it was COLD and raining.
We shared stories around the fire, 
listened to their tales from the past year of university....each of them living in a different city.

Dinner came and went,  somehow we managed a hike between bursts of rain, they camped in sleeping bags next to the fire
and well, we crawled up to the bedroom with the best view of the harbour
along with the coziest duvet in the cottage.

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And then the next morning as they made breakfast and talked some more, 
I felt in complete awe thinking that all these young people were going to be putting themselves out there in another year or two....

But that right now they were here together in this fabulous wood cottage
with its tin roof 
in this little village on the edge of the St. Lawrence river
reconnecting... recharging...re-establishing their bond
as good friends do.

I was taken back as I looked at each of them and recognized that these young adults that I have seen grow over the years are now training to be doctors, an educator, an architect, a philanthropic manager and a biologist.

It felt rather special to be there,
no cell phones present, 
just them.... 
talking, laughing, dreaming, debating.... small issues, world issues.... personal issues.

We packed the car in the rain yesterday afternoon,
they headed off on one last hike along the ridge to see if they could spot some minke whales playing in the bay just one last time
and I wondered if we would all be here again next year.

As I hugged them good bye, they said, I hope you had as much fun as we did.
Thanks for letting us join you.

Well, that was it, the perfect end to a perfect weekend
....  and I really do believe that traditions just get better with age....
you just need to let them grow.