Freedom! I was thrilled to be out with my husband, without our kids, for the first time in what seemed like a long time.

Our kids, safe and happy in the bosom of our extended family, were unlikely to miss us. We had spent the day in the lake and on the beach, alternately soaking up water and sunshine like sponges. They were wiped out.

What to do with ourselves?

Dinner? Definitely. Drinks? Absolutely. Parking? Err….excuse me? Parking? Really?

I am not old in the sense that my joints are still working properly; I can choose to participate in athletic activities without fearing a total body breakdown. I like trying new things and consider myself relatively adventurous—rock climbing, skydiving and bungee jumping are all bumps in my past. But truly, I feel too old to go parking.

My husband shrugged. I reconsidered. Exhaustion and excitement dueled with each other. He glanced at me sideways and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Oh hell. Why not.

We cruised around searching for a secluded enough spot. In the deepening twilight, we traversed the back roads of my youth. He stopped the car and reached for me. And then…headlights appeared in the distance.

Sadly, the moment was gone. We laughed about having to explain ourselves to some law enforcement official or concerned citizen and then drove back to camp.

Fortunately, we had our own bedroom.

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