hammock magic
Originally written July 21, 2023, in my paper journal, away from cell service and civilization
KENNEDY MEADOWS, PT. 1, DAY 1
Mahogany Camp, in the first spot by the stream, which is full and flowing for the first year I’ve gotten to witness!
hammock magic
It is the same as melting into a cocoon of joy. It’s a magic circle. Nothing bad can touch you in the hammock, only happiness and the sight of sunbeams, the sounds of water and dirt bike riders, the presence of your husband, just across camp setting up the tent, on your anniversary. (SEVEN YEARS! Seven years we’ve been together, seven years ago we went on our first date. For seven years, I have been Jake’s person, and he has been mine, and we have fallen only more deeply in love together. 💞)
The hammock represents peace, security, and absolute contentment for me. There are not very many things or places in my life quite as wildly simple and profound.
There’s nothing to it: find a couple trees close enough together and far enough apart, just right, assess the view, attach the straps, hook up your hammock, sink in… and feel the magic begin.
I am floating. A gentle, barely sway. My whole body satisfied, supported, and relaxed. The curve of the hammock holding my weight and forming to my shape. The soft breeze on my skin; it’s as if I’m swimming in air, as it swirls all around, on top and below, through the thin, just-right hammock fabric. A great book on my lap. A loyal dog lying watch beside me. Glimpses of yellow and orange wildflowers. Stream, stream, stream, ceaseless and perfect. The smell of pine and the citronella on my ankle. Quiet. Peace.
There is nowhere I must go, no place I have to be, nothing I should be doing. In this moment, my existence revolves around lying in this hammock, doing nothing, doing anything I want, in this perfect, stunning pocket of the earth, where the outside world can’t reach us, and just soaking it all in. A human amidst the trees. A body relaxed. A mind conjuring zero worries. A pace of stillness. The aftertaste of strawberry sparkling water in my mouth, the air the most pleasing temperature and quality on my legs and face and filling my lungs, and my limbs sticking together ever-so-slightly. Blue watching Jake assemble the tent, while she lays with her chin on the ground, mere millimeters away from her beloved tennis ball. And the stream just keeps on swirling.
Hammock magic. In the best place.
P.S. This year’s excellent hammock novels are The Humans by Matt Haig and Happiness for Beginners by Katherine Center. I think last summer’s Kennedy hammock read was Atlas of the Heart by Brene Brown, another fond memory!
P.P.S. Summer is another something-special kind of magic, and I love it with my whole heart! Jake and I were just sitting in our camp chairs talking about how July is one of the best months of the year.
