It Is What It Is

It's hard to describe the pleasure I get from our family camping trips.

They are disorganized despite planning them five months in advance. They are confusing as plans fly about, we try to accommodate each other, and no one is sure what they are doing for the day until last minute. They are noisy as children start shouting as soon as the sun rises. They are a lot of work, both in preparation and decamping. But god, I love them.

The pleasure for me is multi-fold.

I get to live outdoors, like the vagabond I am at heart. Even at home, I try not to be inside the house. It is a sensual, spiritual experience, sitting in front of an open fire, tending it, feeling protected by the night, the forest, and all my favourite people around me.

I get to spend six days with my favourite people doing nothing more mind-boggling than talking, shopping, planning and making meals, laying about, you know - shared living, like in a commune, but still have your private tent. And everyone just kind of shrugs and says, oh well, if things don't quite work out.

I like cooking and eating outdoors. Food just taste better.

I love seeing the joy and carefree faces of the kids, shy at first, then purposeful and jubilant as they get used to each other, as they seek each other out to play, as they run errands for their parents, as they walk along singing and talking, oblivious to me watching and listening to them. At the end of the trip, all the kids want to camp together again next year.

I love how the different generations and different aged kids can spend time together and enjoy themselves.

The Boy plays guitar now. I love listening to him play and how he gathers the younger kids around him, coordinates them to sing back up as he strums out a tune and sings off key.

I love how we wear similar clothes. That is, we own the same items. Which means we buy things from the same store - my mother, my neighbour and me, my neighbour's girls. Which is incredible, that the same store satisfies the needs of three generations with the same line of clothing. That, or we are just not fashionistas and we are happy wearing basics.

I like the showers at the comfort station. They are fierce and pound on your head after shampooing so you are rinsed off in seconds.

I especially loved seeing how helpful The Boy was this year, during walks to the beach, at meal time, and when decamping. I thought he was responsible and gentlemanly through out. I only needed to yell at him a couple of times.

And oh oh, even though The Exchange is even more like a son to me than before, I still like how he hugged me in the lake because the water was cold.

Yes, these camping trips are a social outing. No use pretending we are seeking solitude or communing with nature.