Yes.

Less than a week after returning from our epic nine-state, 5,000+ mile road trip from Minnesota to California (#jklmntoca), we received an invitation from a pair of extremely generous and lovely friends to spend the weekend at their lake cabin in Hayward, WI. Just the five of us, a kitten named Mikey, and approximately 15,000 of our closest mosquito friends. Compared to what we'd just accomplished, the three-hour drive to Hayward might as well have been a trip to the grocery store for bread and milk. Still...our sunburns had barely begun peeling from our blazing jaunt through Arizona and New Mexico, the pets were frenetic with the loss of their human pack for 18 days, and, of course, the laundry. The kid laundry, the grown up laundry, the swimming laundry. It spilled out from our weary suitcases and covered our respective closet floors and leaked out in to hallways and unmade beds and bathroom door knobs. And despite the undeniable appeal of spending three days sheltered in the Wisconsin woods, my knee jerk response to leaving home again was "no". No to packing, no to the front seat of our cramped Honda Accord, no to abandoned pets and stacks of unopened mail and thirsty houseplants and convenience store snacks. Because my mind...my mind clings desperately to no, even when my heart yearns for the yes. My neurotic, anxiety-ridden, type-A self can rarely see past the blinding glare of daily responsibility long enough to embrace the inherent possibility of the unexpected. The spontaneous. The yes.

Thankfully, the summer months demand affirmation and will settle for nothing less. Bare arms and legs and feet require rocky beaches and sandy shores and expanses of June sunlight that envelop us in warmth as our five-year old self jumps off the back of a pontoon for the first time. And this year? We are grateful to oblige, despite the growing lawn and piled dishes and empty kitchen cabinets. We will pause. We will reconsider. Again and again and again. Ten states and counting.

 The summer of yes.