Our group strings out along the trail kicking rocks.
The baby whines, she’s not really a baby she’s five and heavy.
Katy carries a backpack stuffed with food and toys and changes of clothing. Karl totes his bag and two cameras. Vicky wears a belt around her waist with nicotine gum and keys and money inside. I have my purse.
The baby says she wants to go home and use her iPad. She says her feet hurt and she is hot and cold and bored and hungry. Katy picks her up.
We sit on rocks next to the trail and look down at the creek below. It’s noisy, the water falls fast and splashy, all cascade and tumble through the boulders.
Let’s try for the top of the hill, I say.