Hi friends,
And happy one of my favorite days of the year: the first day of school. One kid happily headed off to 7th grade (!!) and another – who had laid out her clothes a week ago – was sick in bed :(. Tomorrow is a new day!
I wrote this on the way back from Michigan last week, with my hair still smelling like campfire smoke. All of it seems a little far away now, but the sentiment remains the same.
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While my out-of-office reply was loud and clear, the week itself turned out more stressful than I’d hoped. (Stories for another time!) Luckily, I had something on the calendar I’d been looking forward to all year: a lakehouse weekend with three of the four women I’ve been close to since that first new-mom meetup in the park. If you know me, you know the advice I always give new parents is to find your people. And all you need is a few. Just the other week, I gently commandeered a friend’s phone to ghostwrite her intro message to the local mom group. Slightly pushy? Yes. Also, worth it.
We arrived at the lakehouse as the sun was setting, the Midwest [is best!] air thick with the smell of grass and barbecue. Kids spilled into the driveway, squealing and tumbling over each other. We dropped our bags, headed to the dock, and breathed in that unmatched feeling of a weekend about to unfold.
There were s’mores and sparklers and smoky burgers, of course, but my favorite tradition is the afternoon when the moms slip away. We leave the kids and partners on shore and take the pontoon boat out to catch up on the past year. This time, with older kids and more adults to hold down the fort, we had longer than usual. It was a magical, unhurried stretch.
The sky was crystal blue, with puffy clouds drifting across the sun. We talked about everything: work, relationships, friendships, our kids. And the things I can’t type here, of course. At one point, after a particularly ridiculous story, we all collapsed into laughter. Not the polite kind, but the full-body, tears-in-your-eyes, almost-pee-your-pants kind. Cackling. And I caught myself thinking: remember this. Don’t reach for your phone to try to capture the moment (it won’t work anyway). Just remember.
What made it feel so good? The release after a heavy week? The comfort of being with women I love and trust completely? Or maybe just the rare chance to let go. There’s probably research on why a laugh like that is as cathartic as a good cry, but I almost don’t want to look it up. The science wouldn't make it more true.
A play I saw recently,
John Proctor Is the Villain, captured this exact sensation in a stunning scene of breathless joy, where being seen and safe enough to laugh/cry until you can’t breathe. I thought of that as we drifted on the lake, just one more loop, the sun slipping down, the boat rocking gently beneath us.
And yes, you know I teared up when we said goodbye this morning, kids climbing into cars, the littlest daughter of my friend curling her head onto my shoulder. Leaving stings, but weekends like this remind me that the friendships we’ve built are not fragile. They’re sturdy, joyful, underscored by the soundtrack of our cackles across the water.
xx, Leah
PS: I’ve had so many lovely conversations and added a few clients since I announced I was opening coaching spots. You can book a convo
here, if you'd like!
PPS: Spark Society applications are now rolling instead of quarterly. If you’ve been wanting to jump in,
no time like the present! (And maybe send me a message to make sure I saw it come through)