On Sunday I went up American Fork Canyon with my family.
American Fork Canyon holds countless memories for me and mine.
Good memories, the kind I like ;D
We gathered together to celebrate my Mother and my Aunts birthdays.
Born on the same day, seven years apart.
Do I have that right?
Some family member correct me if I am wrong.
I always loved that they shared the same birthday, I often wonder if it was purely coincidental or if the day of conception held some meaning for my grandmother, oh yeah, I went there.
So we went up American Fork Canyon.
We had a camp fire and cooked tinfoil dinners.
The boys went exploring and hiking.
And I sat there soaking in the laughter, cupping my children's happiness in my hands wishing for more room to hold it so it wouldn't spill over the side falling and spreading across my lap.
I hate driving up American Fork Canyon, or any other twisted, narrow, cliff trimmed road.
I 've found though, that the memories we make there are worth the stress of the drive.
I can tuck them in nicely and keep them there.
Hidden in the shadows of the canyon waiting to be rediscovered with blissful glee,
like any lost treasure is.