We went camping with some friends once– they had two daughters about our ages and a pop-up camper. We had two tents. Our campsites were next to each other and not too far from the bathroom, and we went swimming and hiking in the kettle moraine in Wisconsin.
We drank fresh water from icy springs and laughed when a frog peed on my friend’s dad’s hand. We watched a meteor shower, laying on top of a picnic table and counting shooting stars. All four of us got into one side of the pop-up and tipped it to the side.
We played badminton and I hit the birdie into the tall grass and got a huge splinter in the bottom of my foot going after it. My dad pulled it out and I almost threw up.
Our last night there it was just the four of us and our dog Wishbone; our friends had packed up and gone home that day. We sat around our fire and talked and probably my mom tried to get us to sing and probably Laura and I wouldn’t cooperate, because we were teenagers and singing with your mom around the campfire probably wasn’t cool. Although maybe we did sing. I don’t remember.
My dad was there, in his blue camping hat– the only time he ever wore a hat, really– unshaven, unshowered, smelling of hamburgers and woodsmoke and sweat and Deep Woods Off. And Mom looked at us and said, “Girls, isn’t your father a hunka hunka burnin’ love?”
Which isn’t really how I think of my dad. But I’m glad my mom did. Does still.
Not that I really want to know about it.
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Have a story to share? This week’s theme is camp or camping, but you can share any old flashback you like, whether it’s on topic or not. Just click the link below to leave your link, and be sure to visit the others who link up!
Next week’s theme will be Summer Food. I hope to see you all here, sharing memories of picnics, barbecues, or whatever you choose. Image may be NSFW.
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