when you were only 2 months old we went on a roadtrip to queensland. we drove for two days and camped by a river at night. we set up camp in a big field in the middle of the afternoon. you were sleepy so we lay down, the sun so heavy on the tent it became an oven. we both napped bareskin against each other until papa came back with dinner.

night came and we only had one sleeping bag, so me and you snuggled up inside it and papa snuggled up to us. the night was so wintery cold that even in the sleeping bag we shivered, your poor papa’s teeth chattered. he pulled out clothing from the suitcase in the car and covered us in a nest of warmth. by 3am we were all still so cold so me and you sat in the car with the heater going and papa packed everything up. we were in toowoomba by noon.

we stayed with megan and your (second) cousins. they kissed you all over and never left you alone, but you loved it. you would even let sommer put you to sleep. your great-grandparents spoilt you. your nanny had sewn you a stuffed rabbit for easter and your great-granddad was always making silly faces at you. the night before easter your papa and i wrote out clues for a big easter hunt the next morning, we kept saying how great it would be when you were older and could join in.

we went camping on the beach with my favourite mama blogger georgia, and her lovely little family. we swam in a tidal pool, waves being thrown from the ocean against the wall of rocks behind us. i cooked portobello mushrooms on the gas stovetop with handpicked herbs from your great-grandparent’s garden. we sat around in the shade of the trees, letting life flow slowly, talking and laughing. the nights were warmer on the coast, sea-sounds filling our dreams.

the first night grey clouds gathered into a mess of dark, like a bruise in the sky and the rain came quickly. i took you into the safety of our tent and the boys secured our temporary homes as best they could. the wind was so fierce it pushed the wall of the tent over us, i screamed and your eyes went real wide. the rain flew around and fell so loudly. i breastfed you and in the loudest part of the storm you fell fast asleep. i wondered about the way a shower would sound to a little baby in a womb.

somehow we made it home in one exhausting day of driving. that earthy, sweet smell of home hit us and we all sank into our bed and slept until midday. how good it felt to be home, and to be a real family (like your mama and papa had always dreamed).