This past weekend, I was once again part of a great coming together. We had a rather large group at our cottage, 32 I think. Thgere were two overflowing campers in our parking area, a house full of people, and a dock house full of boys (why do our friends have so many boys?). I remember sitting back a couple times during the weekend, wondering what exactly I offer to this wonderful, diverse group of people. I seem to have so little to give. And seriously, how did this celebration start? I remember exactly how my friendships began…I met most of them through Trent’s participation in theater in high school. Our kids move on, but some friendships remain as a testament to our commitment. From there, it branched out to others. And it blossomed into a tradition, without any remembrance of origin. Was this my idea? I can’t remember. Maybe I could recall if I didn’t enjoy wine so much. But then, what’s the point?

There were a few moments that I distinctly ring out during the weekend. One is that I rarely knew where my phone was. And the only reason I might have looked for it was because I could use it for music. I had nowhere better to be, and no one better to talk to. Surrounded by friends, I had everything I could want at that moment. This does not discount family and friends that weren’t there. I just need to take that with me to all events. Lose the phone!

I also remember taking the kids tubing and surfing. When out on the boats, it just seemed that there weren’t enough turns to be had. Kids were laughing, I was laughing, music was playing, we were boating, and everyone was having fun. I would have enjoyed it more if I could have legitimately tossed Tessa from the tube. I did cause them to submerge the tube and manage to send all five riders into the water, but ever since I’ve been forbidden from cracking the whip (hard on the boat, hard on the tube, breaks ropes, blah, blah, blah), I can’t shake that girl for real. It was fun anyway. But there just aren’t enough turns on the tube or board before we have to return to dock. Never enough turns.

I also remember enjoying the live music in the evenings. John, Travis, and Mike on the guitars. John, also singing and playing harmonica. Actually, on varying evenings, many of us were singing…and dancing…just not always well. I speak mainly for myself. Randy, Smokey, and Jerry on percussion. Randy and Jerry proved that a person can play percussion and act as jester at the same time. It was quite a performance. Sorry if I am forgetting any musicians. I was caught up in the moment.

Sometimes, surrounded by the greatness that everyone has to offer, I felt inadequate. I bring so little to the table. But then I thought that maybe, just maybe, we all bring our little bit to the table, and we find that the table is overflowing. I left that weekend renewed and refreshed, if a little tired (seriously people, it’s not normal to go to bed at 2 and get up at 7:30). I hope that each of you reading this knows that I value you, and I realize that you have no idea why you are friends with me. I’m okay with that. I’m going to keep bringing my little bit to the table and hope nobody notices that I haven’t contributed enough. And the laughs will keep coming…and the friendships will keep sustaining us…and I can look forward to the next Rock the Dock, because some traditions should held close to the heart.

And remember, we all have to return to the dock sometime, so enjoy your turn on the tube. There are never enough turns.