Tonight is the first night I've made it out camping with my family. It's been a long time coming and summer is getting away from me.
Growing up we lived at the campgrounds. The rangers all knew us as we sped around on our bikes, playing by the lake, sand castles on the beach, all of the trails memorized like the streets of our hometown. We had our little campground gang of kids who considered the campground a second home like we did. We knew what made good firewood, how to catch crawdads, and after our parents went to bed we could fling flaming marshmellows with deadly accuracy.
These are the frames of the reel of my youth. As I got older there were stolen kisses outside the reach of the firelight and giggled confessions with friends under the thin veil of a tent.
As I sit here in a lounger between my mom and grandma, "shooting the shit" with my grandpa, it becomes easier to let the hard lessons of feeling my way out in the scary world of "being a grownup" melt away. Life just feels so much more simple here.
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