A surprise camping trip

It was a beautiful weekend. My father and I had written off the possibility of a camping trip when my mother began feeling ill. Sunday morning began a bit rough as she suspected she was coming down with strep throat. A trip to Quick Care and a diagnosis of sinusitis, however, and mom decided we would all go anyway. Dad and I returned home from morning worship to find Mom with a few prescriptions, s'more ingredients, and a cooler with food. After grabbing a quick lunch, tossing some clothes into a suitcase, and loading the back of the truck with camping gear, we set off into the great unknown ... a.k.a. Wolf Run State Park.

We found a nice, large campsite near the showers and (far too near the screaming children at) the playground. It is a very pretty and clean campground, so we were highly pleased. After setting up the tent and arranging camp chairs and picnic tables to best suit cooking and card playing, we took off for a short hike down to the ice cream shop about a mile away from where we set up. It was a leisurely walk there and back, but then most walks with my father are done at a rather slow pace. By the time we made it back to the campsite and got a nice fire going, the temperature had dropped from the already cool seventies down to the rather chilly fifties.

We pulled our chairs in closer to the fire, cooked hot dogs, and just watched the flames dance different colors. Mostly it was yellow/orange, but there was just a touch of intense blue/purple at the tip of one log. We didn't speak much to each other, but lost ourselves to our own thoughts and the sounds of insects and birds in the woods. I commented on this lack of communication, but was unable to ignite anything more than just a superficial discussion. Eventually we gathered at one of the picnic tables with a gas lamp and played Chronology for a while. For some reason we always seem to put off card games to after sunset. After my parents had tired themselves of the game, we settled once again around the fire for warmth, but looked to the sky to pick out a few constellations. I was pleased to be able to pick out one, but I'll be lucky to recognize one of the two or three new ones my father pointed out to me last night. Cassiopeia I already knew; Signus I may remember. It remains to be seen.

I believe we all headed into the tent shortly before 11:00, and my father was snoring within minutes. For some reason, lying there in semi-darkness with a thin fabric curtain as a partition between my parents and myself, I became talkative. My mother and I lay there talking until well past midnight, and we spoke much more freely than we are wont to do. I told her of things I had no intention of yet telling her, and although they are not bad, her reception of them was much better than I had anticipated. Somehow the veil of night frees the heart and mind to speak of things which might at other times seem awkward or embarrassing, but which really are quite natural. I think it was a good evening for both of us, and it helped to draw us closer together. My father ... well, he slept through it all, but I enjoyed spending time with him earlier in the evening as well, even if it largely did consist of gazing into the fire or up at stars.