Sunday, May 2, 2010


I’m not packing up this weekend to go Mother’s Day Camping.

For the first time in 15 years, our camping pillows are not being pulled out of the bottom of the closet while Dad throws the tent in the back of the truck. The camping box is still on the shelf in the garage. Nobody will fight over having to sleep on the purple pad, I won’t call dibs on the right side of the tent.

Since forever we’ve gotten out of school early on Friday (and sometimes even on Thursday if we were lucky). We’ve thrown our gear into the car like professionals and driven to vaguely familiar locations. Lunchtime by the water. Exploring. Spoons Tournament. Campfire stories. Cards. Hiking. Jolly Ranchers. Boys v. Girls War. Manhunt. Then, as soon as we’re settled and dirty we pack everything back up and drive home on Sunday.

Melting spoons and the bottom of our shoes on the fire pit. Attempting to build a bridge across a small river. The Umph Tree. Indian corn. A two day long soccer game with a score of 56 to 64. Water wars. Tying people to trees. Ticks in our clothes. Riding a log down a river. Rope swing. The story of the Seven Crosses. Snipe hunting. Defending our firewood pile. Getting lost on the side of a mountain. Capture the flag. Eating 10lbs of potatoes in one night. Singing as we hike. The Cannibal Club.

Broken bones and broken hearts.

Epic afternoons and quiet evenings.

Growing from kids to teenagers to adults.

What I wouldn’t give to be sprinting down a mountain, pants ripped and dirty, hair in a braid (tied with a bow of course), screaming in the middle of an intense game of manhunt.

Here's to Mother's Day Camping 2011?

3 comments:

  1. You make me nostalgic for things I've never experienced. It's beautiful and saddening at the same time. <3

    +Christina+

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  2. I missed you!!!! Oh, I believe the tick was burrowed in your skin and we had to take you to the ranger to see how to get it out :)

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