This is the last post about our camp trip, I promise!
One day into our trip, I was thinking how I was never going camping again. This was after a scurrying mouse freaked me out (ironic considering I used to dissect cockroaches) and hours of packing followed by hours of unpacking. It was my thought going to sleep as my baby twisted and turned on my body, trying to find a good spot to sleep. His little body somehow recognized the strangeness of the bed and eventually ended up on top of mine. Which is why I laid awake for hours contemplating my sanity.
The next day unfolded slowly, so slowly that I kept asking the husband, so what's next? We had a big breakfast, the kids rode the horses, what's the next activity? We decided to go fishing, then swimming.
At the fishing hole, we sat around while the husband took forever to set up the rods. Afterward, he took forever to fish. I wanted to grab the rod out of his hands, reel it in, throw it in and reel it in again. The kids climbed a tree, played with dirt, threw things into the pond, and took turns fishing and swinging. At some point it hit me.
I took in the blueness of the sky, the shade of the trees, the vast nothingness around us, and the laughter of the kids. This is what camping is about. And I thought, we have to do this more often.
If for no other reason than to see images of my kids that I normally don't get to see.