We’ve abandoned the fire to sit by the lake, watching as the June full moon makes its way across the universe and the mountains reflecting in the mirror-like lake surface become shadows against the bright night sky. Jasper National Park is one of the largest Dark Sky reserves in the world, so there is nothing between us and the stars.
It feels magic.
The night is cold, but the body heat from our back-to-back cuddle huddle is keeping me warm enough. It’s only been a month, but already these people who share my home, my work, my laughter and my Game of Thrones obsession feel like family.
Our newest member plays slow, soulful songs on his acoustic guitar and the rest of us have fallen into an appreciative silence after finally controlling the giggle fit that was the undignified way we dealt with the pure shock that one of us had this much talent. To be honest, these kid has a voice to rival Bieber.
Maybe it is magic. For the first time in what feels like a long time, past demons don’t matter.Thoughts I’ve been processing for months subside. They might be back tomorrow, but right now a little voice tells me if I made it here, then everything must be ok.
One of the group breaks our silence.
“Can I just say, when I’m 60, it’s going to be memories of moments like this that will make me so happy. You’re all pretty swell.”
Usually, I’d tease the hell out of him for being so cheese. But right now all I can think is how I couldn’t agree more.