This past weekend we had our annual camping trip in a pine forest campground on the banks of a river. My husband and I first went camping with a bunch of his work buddies when we were first dating. We continued the tradition after we were married and took a brief respite when our two girls were small. We picked up the tradition when the youngest was in kindergarten. My husband’s work buddies petered out and we went just as a family for a few years. The past 10 years my husband’s sister along with her husband and her two boys have joined the tradition. The past couple of years our daughters have brought friends along who are now part of the tradition. The planning has gotten a bit crazy since our girls are out of state, but they wouldn’t miss it for the world.
What would they miss?
They would miss the fireside chats, tubing in the freezing rapids, the beautiful stars at the campsite, the awesome shooting stars and space junk at the dark, ominous dam a few miles away. They would miss the beaver or the bald eagle we once saw and they would miss fishing. They would miss the awesome games of dominoes or ghost of wizzum. They would miss the food cooked over the campfire and lastly they would miss the drive-in double features.
As I groan about the drudgery of the unpacking and cleaning and putting away all of the stuff, I myself know that I would not miss this for the world.