A letter to this year's Moms

It seems like an age since the last Moms Away (May 2014). Now that we are just two weeks away, the time seems to be mysteriously speeding up. I have so much to do that it's a bit overwhelming. Many other moms keep offering to help; I want to take you up on your offers, but as I am woefully behind in my planning, I don't even know what to delegate! Ah well, I have the long weekend camping to figure out my lists. (I do love my lists!)

I am slightly amazed every year at how well the different women blend together. We have different combinations of friends, acquaintances, and strangers each year. But, by the end, new connections will have been made, tears and laughs will have been shared, and tiny snapshots of memories will have been tucked away amongst us as a collective and as individuals.

It is next to impossible to predict exactly how each year's event will transpire. I used to worry that people wouldn't be happy, that they wouldn't get along, or that there wouldn't be enough to do. With four years' experience under my belt (or rather, under my stretchy pants), I am more relaxed about the "what" or the "how" and I can focus more on the "who." And, slowly, I focus a bit more on myself at each year's retreat as well.

Some years, I am at a great spot in my life as a mother, and I am able to support others who may be in crisis, on the edge of a meltdown, or just recovering from something no-one could have predicted. Other years, I am the one making sure the tissue box is close at hand; I seek out advice, support, or a glass of wine from another wise woman.

Community is a rich, powerful thing. As we start packing (maybe the night before) and as I finally start my endless lists, I celebrate most of all that we 18 women will soon be shedding our "mom" super-capes to come together in community. We will arrive tired, excited, nervous, or content; we will share what needs to be shared and guard what needs to be guarded for one another; we will hurt for another's pain, dance with abandon if the mood takes us, or walk in the beauty of the mountains; some will nap; others will lie awake. It's all good.

See you in two weeks. Travel safely.

Teresa