We are spending day one a long holiday weekend looking for peace.

We are at a state park, one with some of the most secluded waterways and forest preserves in the state.

We have our chairs under the Cyprus trees, and my bum knee leg is propped on one of the Cyprus knobs.

Sounds picturesque, right?

Not so much.

In front of us, a 20 something couple are pushing their floats right in front of us. Their radio goes on, and they turn up the volume as they suck on their respective vapes.

Feet away, their toddler in swimmers is shouting “help”. No glance is given toward her. Finally, the girl wiggles her way over to her mom, who shoves her away with force, causing high pitched screams from the girl.

Behind us, someone else fires up their speaker.

We haven’t spoken a word.

We are watching the cormorants dive for long periods, popping up somewhere else like a surprise.

We are appreciating the sun as it sifts through the feather like leaves on the Cyprus.

We smile as a swallowtail meanders past, dipping up and down and around, until it is out of view.

The majority of people here are silently enjoying this natural respite.

One the loud interlopers finally move from the only flat access to the spring fed water, we carefully pick our way out to cold, clear water.

We stand near the shore and look at the grasses swaying, tiny fish cutting in out of the ribbons of grass.

We return to our chairs with icy legs and peaceful souls.

We love this park. This place.

It’s the people that ruin it.

Every time.