Dearest Beloveds,

We are right around the 40 day mark for your new school. The beautiful 40 day mark where new habits form, transformation occurs, and possibilities beckon. I am pleased to note that the 40 day mark on your ends has been demarcated by two key things in life: apple pie and a really good fart joke.

Dearest Beloveds,

Courtesy of my obsessive listening to The Emerald Podcast while you two were at camp I have been exposed to this 2013 quote from James Gustav Speth (Gus), co-founder of the National Resources Defense Council, twice in the past few weeks.

I used to think that top environmental problems were biodiversity loss, ecosystem collapse and climate change. I thought that thirty years of good science could address these problems. I was wrong. The top environmental problems are selfishness, greed and apathy, and to deal with these we need a cultural and spiritual transformation. And we scientists don’t know how to do that.

Speth leads me directly into why I can’t sleep the nights after our new car arrives.

Dearest Beloveds,

I wish I could imagine where you two are writing your letters home. Sitting up in bed and balancing your paper on your knees as you listen to rain hitting the sides of the tent? Laying on your bellies on your inspection ready sheets and writing on your pillows? Crouched on the floor writing hunched over on the floor of your cabin?

Momma and Dadda* are writing on one corner of the dining table. Our materials are strewn about because we don’t need to clear that end for meals.

“Okay, so Momma, I want to send a picture of myself in a bathing suit so L can upload them to Google Slides. Then she and I can decide which bathing suit to wear to the pool party.”

“The pool party that is in June.”

“Right.”

I remember being so excited to plan outfits with close buddies at your age, such fun!

Fifteen minutes later I sat poised to send pictures of Bean, resplendent in your 11 year old long legged blonde glory.

And my brain caught up.

Corinna!!! What are you thinking?! Sending pictures over the internet cannot become normalized - and this is where this starts.

“Are your eyes closed?”

“Yup.”

Bean and I sat together. Our heads leaning in towards each other. The water was warm. I could hear Dragon move. The sound of a coin clinked against stone, then metal, then silence. There were more ripple sounds as he moved in the water.

“Are you ready yet?” Bean yelped by my ear.

“Almost.”

More ripples burbled. “Okay, you can open your eyes.”

“I can’t help not making paper airplanes. If there is a spare piece of paper, even if it has stuff on it, I just wanna fold it. I like folding ‘em. I like experimenting making new shapes.”

Dragon’s obsession is strewn all over our living space - as we eke out our final weeks of inside living before icy mud season dries up.

I have spent the last few weeks tripping across paper airplanes everywhere in our house. Small ones, big ones, bigger ones (4x4 papers), and even an attempt at a HUGE one (10x10 papers was too big for liftoff).

They make me happy (well, not the tripping, but the rest of it.)

“Bean, I am going to read a chapter of Triss to your brother. Do you want to join us?”

“Could you read really loud from his room?”

“Of course!”

Settled into Dragon’s big chair, I open to our spot in the well-loved library book. Then I switched on voice memos to record the latest Redwall installment for your Yoto.