Camping Trip: a Retreat into Nature and Family Bonding

Awakening to a New Day

My eyes open like two flashlights looking at my surroundings in high definition. Absorbing every ray from the yellow light hanging over me, and without a doubt, I know I’ve slept too long. As I arose from the heavy nap, I was first aware of the humid fragrance inside the cabin. I pressed my fingers on the air bed to help myself up, but the stiff material only made my body sink into an invisible pit.

I stood up from the inflated velvety mattress and gazed around the room. There in the corner of the room, stood a long table that elongated from one corner of the room to the other. It was holding bagged hot dog buns, water cups, about a dozen water bottles that were still in its clear, stretchy, packaged material, and some camping equipment. I decided to glance back to straighten my figure and be faced by two more large inflatable beds. Blankets enveloped both as if they had been slept on. I looked over to my left to see a window with curtains that were completely shut, so I couldn’t see if it was broad daylight or night. To have a sight of the outdoors, I need to step outside. Finally, I determined to approach the door and crack it open.

Evening on the Camping Trip

A welcoming swish of earthy chemicals enters my respiratory system. I carefully gaze up at the full branches. It was quite dark, but the silver moon helped give off the only light; apart from an illustrious campfire, my sister, mom, three cousins, and my aunt and uncle sat around. The dirt had a lumpy smell as if I were on a bed of earth and rocks. I was mesmerized by the fire; an ombre of colors of orange, red, yellow, and white was the greatest at the center of the emanating heat. I watch the heat from the campfire fade away into the sultry air as my three cousins and my sister roast a marshmallow over the fire.

Family Moments and Misadventures

Spontaneously, I heard a twig snap and a couple of dry leaves break from the left side of the cabin into the dark forest; my first instinct was to get myself back into the cabin. Nevertheless, my curiosity consumed me wanting to stay by the cabin’s wooden door to watch what was hiding in the dusky forest. My dog appeared and ran where the others were.

She’s a chihuahua and tends to bark at everything. When I mean everything, I mean everything; she will bark and bark at anything that bothers her, yet when it comes to food, she will look at you with cute kitten eyes, and without any choice, you’re forced to give her a piece from your food. Probably, that’s why the veterinarian told us that she is overweight. She’s a tiny dog; her fur is colored like a graham cracker, and she has short stubby legs with a big belly. Her belly is not exaggeratedly big, as if she could be pregnant, but I must admit she’s quite a chubby dog. I watched the dog penetrate its eyes towards the chocolate as my sister was making a s’more. Her two front stubby legs rested on the tanned thighs of my sisters. For a chubby dog, she still had a little muscle: as she leaped a couple of times, her two back legs flexed in desperation, pushing my sister’s form to the sides. S’mores danced around the dog’s head like a circus: but within seconds, the dog’s dripping mouth had flicked the small piece of a s’more that my sister had offered. I was overjoyed to see her tail wag side to side like a car’s windshield.

“Cindy, you’re finally up,” I hear my sister say from a distance as she adds another marshmallow to her wooden stick. “Make me a s’more, please,” I asked, smiling. “No, here, help yourself,” she said, handing me a fluffy white marshmallow and a stick. I sat on a chair by my sister and gazed to see the others. My mom was talking to my aunt, and my uncle helped my three cousins roast their s’mores. I observed the heat from the campfire blaze into the air as my uncle kept adding more wood and poked it with long sticks to keep its length. Even though the fire seemed to not fade away, he was just making sure to keep it alive since it was our only source of light. Orange flames sparked as it was fed. I always wondered why it was called “campfire,” for me, it was more like “smelly fire.” I always hated the smell of burnt things, but at the same time, I adored being isolated from the city. Busy cities always give me anxiety, and being socially isolated from everyone to spend time with family was always a passion of mine.

Spending time outside opened my eyes to the fact that nature is beautiful, and people lose sight of it because they spend hours facing computer or phone screens. I waited for my marshmallow to roast over the fire; the fire consumed the outworn trunks of wood like a hungry newborn baby drinking milk for the first time. A combination of smoke and sparks raised into the air and faded into thin air. Ash was also left behind like great dirty snowflakes. My sister turned her attention back to the fire, blowing slowly into the red ashes. Within minutes a saggy marshmallow was ready to be made into a s’more.

“Cindy would you like to eat something,” I heard a sweet voice ask me; I turned to see my mom standing by my side, mesmerizing the beautiful campfire. “It’s beautiful right,” I spoke to her. “I’m actually not hungry,” I continued. Moments like this I really enjoyed, the feeling of no worries nor stress. The thought of no TV, no computer, or phones- just with family and an igniting campfire was all I needed. “You two want to go for a quick run at the lake,” my little cousin questioned me and my sister. I turned to look at my other two cousins, that were desperately waiting for an answer. I wasn’t sure of their plan, so I quickly glanced at my sister for an opinion. We telepathically knew that it was a yes, so we nodded. “The loser will have to owe me ten bucks,” the oldest cousin evilly said.

We all started running like animals, cutting chase for a prayer. There was no time to waste; I didn’t want to lose. Since the cabin was on a hill, all five of us took a visible pathway to concrete stairs that led down toward the lake. My oldest cousin’s feet pounded the dry concrete, the springing graceful steps from a few steps earlier integrated into a racecar running one hundred miles an hour. I could hear her huge breaths smack into the air like she was ready to give up, but she never stopped. My feet kissed the pavement as I ran; perhaps a few minutes ago, I could have backed out from this idea of racing my sister and cousins to the lake. I wouldn’t consider myself athletic; the fact that I almost felt my lungs collapsing was the only way to prove it. My feet were made to only walk; the farther I ran, the more fragile I felt. Breathing heavily, fast beating heart- I was a girl not meant to run.

Reflections by the Lake

A couple more feet, and we were almost at the lake’s shore. My feet and sandals were all covered with warm sand, but that didn’t matter at this moment. Everyone completely stopped and admired the lake. The perspiration of sweat ran cool on my skin. One of the finest mirrors, never showing what is below it but reflecting the shining moon, there was the lake. Lost in the lake’s rhythmic percussion waves, my cousin and my sister ran parallel to the shore without touching the water. I move closer to the calming presence of the lake, allowing me to get lost in this quiet moment in peace. I finally found something I would like to experience every day until I perish.

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