First let me say that I am not a big believer in signs, omens, or even karma. I’ve been known to burn a Yankees hat here and there but that’s as far as my superstitious side goes. Second of all, I DON’T CAMP! I don’t do dirt, I don’t do bugs, and I surely don’t do community showers. Now that we’ve got that squared away, try this on for size.
I did what I hate the most this weekend and went camping . . . in a three room cabin at one of those places where the activities are scheduled for you. One last hoorah for me and the kids before the official end of summer. Anyhow, our bathroom-less cabin overlooked a non-swimmable lake so there was nothing but clear water and trees for as far as I could see. I was taking a picture when out of the next cabin comes a little 2yr old boy dressed in an engineers hat, his little hair curling up from underneath and hiking boots . . Actual hiking boots. He was the cutest thing I’d ever seen and for some reason I was captivated with him. I wanted to scoop him up and take him home, odd because I am so done having kids!
That afternoon we were down at the lake, same two-year-old boy shows up and wants to go swimming. His mom just strips him naked and lets him swim. He jumped off the dock, dug a hole in the sand with nothing but a stick, and splashed around all while buck naked. Of course I stared at him the whole time. There was just something about him I couldn’t shake.
That night I am sitting out on the deck stewing about my books -- praying Cedar will sell and wondering if my new WIP Inside Out is even viable. That same boy comes toddling out of his cabin and over to mine (The cabins are all connected by wrap around decks) He plops down on the bottom step and refuses to climb any further. I did what I'd been wanting to do since the first time I saw him; I picked him up. He stared right back at me; no smile, no laugh, just huge brown eyes.
His mom smiles at me then calls him back “Cedar, come on." Kid’s name was Cedar! I must've had a dumb look on my face because she asked if anything was wrong. I laughed, said I loved her son's name, and that I'd just written a book titled Cedar. She asked me if it was a children’s book and I said no, more of a crossover YA about a girl living in the Appalachian Mountains. It was her turn to laugh. Her mom, who was staying with her in the cabin, had hiked all 1800 miles of the Appalachian Trail.
Now what do you make of that?