Today I was sitting at my computer, knocking out work for the family business, when I randomly found myself clicking over to the campground’s website. I don’t even know why—maybe I just needed something familiar. Something easy. Something that could pull a simple smile out of me for a minute.
I started scrolling through pictures from last year. Campfires. Familiar faces. Kids running around like the world is nothing but fun and fresh air. Quiet mornings that don’t feel rushed. The kind of memories that hit you in the chest in a good way… and in a hard way, too, because you realize how much you’ve been missing them.
And then I saw it.
They announced they’re opening for the season on May 1.
It’s just a date on a website. That’s all it is. But it landed like a jolt of electricity. Like someone flipped a light on in a room I didn’t realize had gotten dim. Four months sounds like forever until you say it out loud—just under four months—and suddenly it feels close enough to start picturing again.
Because for me, it’s not just “camping.” It’s a whole rhythm. A routine that I look forward to in my bones.
Fridays at the campground have always felt like a reset button. Even if the week is chaotic, even if I’m tired, even if life feels heavy—Friday comes, and something in me wakes up. The packing. The little checklist in my head. The “did we remember this?” back-and-forth. The drive up. The first turn into the place. That first moment when you step out and the air smells different—like pine, firewood, and summer trying to show up early.
It’s the excitement of getting back to our site, unlocking the door, opening everything up like you’re bringing it back to life. It’s setting things up the way we like them, because that’s our little home away from home. It’s the first cold drink, the first “how was your week?” with people who feel like family, and the way the kids instantly turn into a different version of themselves—lighter, louder, happier.
It’s the simple stuff. The stuff that doesn’t sound like much until you realize it’s exactly what you’ve been craving.
I don’t know why this winter has been getting to me the way it has. I’ve never been the type to obsess over seasons. But this year has felt heavier—like the days have been dragging and my mind has had too much room to wander. The end of last year and the start of this one did a number on me. Things shifted. People changed. Some connections I didn’t expect to lose started slipping away before I even realized what was happening. And then my grandfather passed, and it felt like the year took one last piece on its way out the door. I’ve been carrying that around more than I’ve wanted to admit.
So seeing “May 1” wasn’t just about a campground opening.
It was a reminder that there’s still something ahead that feels like me. A reminder that there’s a version of life coming back that includes campfires, fresh air, family, friends, and nights where the world gets quiet enough for your head to quiet down too. A place where the noise doesn’t win. A place that doesn’t ask me to be anything other than present.
Just under four months.
Not tomorrow. Not soon enough. But close enough that I can feel it. Close enough to start looking forward again instead of just getting through the days.
And maybe that’s what I needed today—not some big breakthrough or grand plan—just a date that proves the heaviness isn’t permanent. A little sign in the distance that says, keep going… you’re almost back.
True North Thoughts 