"You think you're one of millions, but you're one in a million to me"

Saturday morning was my favorite kind of sleepy delight, sandwiched between Layne and Marc, my fingers sticky with jam, and mouth full with biscuits I couldn't help but feel overwhelmingly grateful for my family. I had finally had a chance to get over to my Aunty Pam's house, something I've let be pushed off my plate for far too long since she returned from an unbelievable trip to Norway.

The kids eventually left in their chaotic twister and we spread across the busied counter photographs, brochures, and european chocolate. She shared her trip memories like a collection of preciously whispered tokens and I realized fully how much I really had missed her even just for those couple weeks. There's some piece so large she brings to my life that my hearts feels entirely capable to keep chugging but lacks part of it's usual zest without her. Like a key to let the most ridiculously Camille parts of me shine horrifically and fantastically bright; the story of my life rings happily with her laughter as a permanent slot on its soundtrack.