Sunshine halos around your head and long shadows from early morning light. Shoes off before breakfast,rusk in hand while tentatively exploring the camp, traipsing after your cousin - three pink strollers bumping over rough terrain. A fascination of footprints (Florence) and the reference to hornbills as ducks (Anna). Family every which way you turn from your great grandmother to your brand new four week old cousin. Afternoon drives wearing safari hats and riding shot gun up front, saying hi to beasts and birds or just playing with dashboards and gear stick of the old landey. Chaotic communal meals, a sunset lighting the whole sky on fire, seeing fish in the clouds. That magical hour of dusk when you're full of life and you run around laughing and jumping and dancing and hugging each other, each passer by throwing you up in the air or embracing you in their arms. Climbing into the bath altogether and all dirty. Then night fall, and quiet, and clean babies fall asleep in my arms under the mozzie net.
Of all the places we've been, I love being here with you the most. I see a sense of adventure being planted in you as play in mud under the grand old tree out front, or as you ride on the landey with dusty wind flying through your hair, I see a love of nature beginning to form as you examine a strange beetle in the soil, or feel the velvety tips of a succulent leaf, I see a love of the outdoors and fresh air starting to form as we're out doors from sunrise to sunset, and I see the value of having family around you all day. And I am grateful.