When I think about summer and what it means to me, I think of blue skies, sunshine, chirping birds, bike rides, swimming, a gentle breeze and the smell of an early morning smoke from last night’s fire. When I think about summer, I think about camping.
Ever since I was a young child, camping has been part of what made my summer so fun. I’ve camped in many places but the most memorable places were the Catskills with my dad and New Hampshire with my mom. When I used to go camping with my dad, I knew it would be a fun and laid back time with no schedule, we would just wake up and decide from there what we were in the mood for. I remember going with my best friend and brother at the time and just riding bikes around the campground all day. When we got hungry, we would go back to the site, get some food and off we’d go again. At night was even better. We would have the music going and marshmallows flaming due to our impatience. Later in the night, we would get a few other kids from the other campsites and play an epic game of Manhunt. One time, my brother caught a couple bass and we got to take it back to the campsite and prepare it for dinner. These memories are so crystal clear in my head to this day, I can still remember the feeling I got every time I smell a fire going. During these camping trips, I never wanted to leave. I was so happy, so consumed and filled with all the pleasantries of nature.
When I think about camping with my mom, I have different memories but the same feeling. My mom owned a pop-up trailer so we never had to worry if it rained. In fact, I remember we got stuck for a few days in the rain and we killed the time by playing board games in the camper. We would lay put snack and drinks and play games all night. In the morning, I would heat up water and have hot chocolate and oatmeal before the day started. My mom was always a little more planned so we would talk about what we would do each day there. The one special thing I share with my mom when we camp is eating green olives together. After we came back to the campsite for the day, we would sit and read our books and share a jar of green olives. It became a tradition and I will never forget it. One year my mom and I even brought a watercolor set to paint together. We’d walk to the beach early in the morning and paint the scene. Though I’ll never need a picture to remember the beauty of not just the scene but that moment with my mom.
Camping holds so much meaning and sadly I haven’t been able to go these last few years but all I have to do is close my eyes, and I’m camping in my mind.