Not pictured is the vomit we cleaned up when Margot got carsick as we drove through the mountains. Or Helen running stark naked across the beach to me or mundane trouble of finding parking.
Not pictured is how annoying it is to put sandy clothes on wet bodies or the higgledy-piggledy state of our kids when we went in to get coffee on the drive home.
Not pictured is the sound of the rides on the boardwalk. The sound of Reed and Helen playing when I woke up this morning. The smell of the fire that Adam built when we got home.
It’s never all there in the pictures. But I am glad we have them, anyway. And I am glad we have these weekends and this time when were are all young, and the sun is shining, and we can drive down to Santa Cruz. Vomit and all.