We left The Compound around 11 a.m. in two cars.

Despite many opportunities to join us, our oldest begged off. Roads here are narrow, winding, and frequently change elevation; even dramamine didn’t make a drive appealing to him.

We drove north to Castara, stopping along the way to see a little waterfall a short walk down a stairway, and just out of sight of the road.

Castara is a little beach on the north side of the island. A little rough at the shoreline, there is a steep drop off right past where the waves crash, and deep, salty water rolls gently. It was a beautiful clear day, and while the littles got a rush from the shallow crashing waves, we parents took turns watching them and swimming out into the deep, calm water.

After several hours at the beach, we continued on to our next stop, a short hike which took us across a stream and to a tiered waterfall. We had the place to ourselves. Those still had their bathing suits on from the beach quickly ventured into the cool water.

Cylon jumped in. The look on his face as he came back out of the water after diving in made me deeply regret having changed out of my suit. One of the cousins stripped to his drawers, then one of my girls did (thank goodness for sports bras!), then I did the same.

The powerful energy of being under the pounding water of the falls was indescribable. I didn’t want to get out of the water! It was like being plugged into the earth on a very primal level. I struggle with depression, and during my time in the water and for a while afterward, I felt a total relief from that heavy weight.

The sun slanted in as we made our way back to the cars. What had been an empty grassy area where we parked was full of guys liming with trunks full of beer and fresh coconuts. We hid behind a bend in the trail and hurriedly pulled dry clothes on over our wet underthings.

After the drive back to The Compound, the kids were strangely full of energy, running around, screaming, and fighting until bedtime. I snuck out on the back porch to the outdoor laundry and hung damp clothes on the line in the dark to get away for a bit.

This morning, no less that two of my children are flailing around having a meltdown because they feel things aren’t going their way, and yesterday’s incredible moments have passed. Still, I don’t have to dig deep to find that that flicker of possibility is still there.

One of the reasons I value travel with kids so much is that what happened is something we all shared together. The kids got to see their mom and dad full of childlike wonder and delight, something that rarely happens at home.

Over the course of our trips there have been more tough moments than good ones. But the difference is that the good moments are better than good, they are amazing.