My mothers’ group goes camping every year. A lot has changed, but I’m grateful we still have each other | Holly Wainwright
Author Holly Wainwright reflects on her decade-long friendships with the women she met in a strip-lit shopping mall when her first child was a newbornWe knew it was coming. The camping trip when the kids would be up later than the parents, adult ears tuned in not for tears and temperatures but for tent zips flicking up and down at midnight, our alcohol audited and phone trackers at hand.This past Easter weekend, it arrived. The count was the same: 11 adults, 14 kids. The destination was new, but not unusual. A classic Australian campground – powered sites, a well-worn kitchen and a toilet block with a code it takes days to remember. A tepid, kidney-shaped pool and a sandy track to a beach stretching away in all directions. Continue reading...
Author Holly Wainwright reflects on her decade-long friendships with the women she met in a strip-lit shopping mall when her first child was a newborn
We knew it was coming. The camping trip when the kids would be up later than the parents, adult ears tuned in not for tears and temperatures but for tent zips flicking up and down at midnight, our alcohol audited and phone trackers at hand.
This past Easter weekend, it arrived. The count was the same: 11 adults, 14 kids. The destination was new, but not unusual. A classic Australian campground – powered sites, a well-worn kitchen and a toilet block with a code it takes days to remember. A tepid, kidney-shaped pool and a sandy track to a beach stretching away in all directions. Continue reading...
