The anticipated moment finally arrived during our recent Easter camping trip, where the children, now teens, were awake far longer than their parents. With 11 adults and 14 kids, we gathered at a familiar, typical Australian campground, featuring powered sites, a basic kitchen, and a beachside track, yet everything has changed since those early parenting days.
What began as a circle of new mothers, nervously discussing sleepless nights and infant struggles years ago, has now transformed. Those babies we once cradled are now teenagers scattered across various schools and states – no longer bound by early bedtimes, they thrill in independence while the adults savour barbecued dinners and red wine well into the night.
Over the past decade, some families have faced significant changes — marriages have ended, jobs altered, and personal challenges, including health issues and losses, have occurred. Despite these transitions, a small group of mothers continues to reunite every Easter, now fondly observed in the company of their growing children, who skateboard and chase each other in the warm sand.
Although not all original members of our mothers’ group remain closely connected, our annual camping trip endures as a cherished tradition. Even with life pulling us in different directions, the tight-knit bonds formed years ago persist, demonstrated through various smaller friendships within the group.
In my novel, He Would Never, which draws inspiration from our camping adventures, the initial trip was spurred by our partners’ connections during children’s birthday parties. This year, we engaged in discussions reflective of our shared experiences as parents raising teenagers — topics ranged from technology to relationships, and mental wellbeing.
Between moments of reminiscing about the kids and life’s challenges, we have crammed meaningful conversations into this short getaway. While the kids may now be seeking their own adventures, the collective memories and friendships we’ve cultivated remain vital. We continuously connect through texts, sharing stories of what the teens got up to after lights out — revealing that their teenage antics are not unlike our own escapades from years past.
Next Easter, we plan to gather again, heartened by the knowledge that despite their growth, our shared experiences and traditions will persist. We entertain thoughts of the future; will our teenagers appreciate these camping trips as we do, or will we eventually make the leap to a resort?
Ultimately, these reunions signify a rare bond — a comforting reminder of our shared past. In a world filled with pressures and changes, this camping venture continues to be a reliable anchor, offering warmth and nostalgia amidst life’s inevitable shifts.