family

There’s a kind of photo that doesn’t just show you a day—it returns you to it.

Throwback to outside life feels like that. Three of us in a canoe, spaced out along the same narrow hull, drifting across dark water that mirrors the tree line. The river looks quiet enough to hear your own thoughts, but busy with small movements: a paddle lifting, a ripple widening, the slow, steady pull forward.

I miss how simple “outside” used to be. Not a plan or a productivity goal, just a default setting. You put on a life jacket, push off from the bank, and let the current and the conversation do the work. The trees keep their distance but still feel close, like a familiar backdrop that never needed explaining.

Looking back, it’s the ordinary details that feel most alive—the uneven rhythm of paddling, the water tapping the metal sides, the way everyone’s attention is on the same direction even if we’re each doing our own part.

Maybe that’s why this picture sticks. It’s proof that the world can be wide without being complicated. A canoe, a stretch of river, and the quiet assurance that you belong to the day you’re living.