There was a moment on Sunday morning when the music had
replaced conversation in the car. I rested my head on the window and let my
brain run through all the disconnected thoughts that it pleased. Right in the
middle of reminiscing over the excellent weekend I had just experienced I
noticed that the trees were starting to thin. My heart stopped for a second,
and I knew I had just been hit with a case of the runaways.
During the previous month or so I attempted to make plans
for the Fourth of July weekend. Strong contenders were Tennessee, the beach,
Long Island, Florida and staying near the District. Eventually weather, funds,
my poor planning skills, a lack of interested companions and a potential
terrorist attack put a stop to all of those and mostly on a whim I took up an offer from a friend to go camping.
Camping and spontaneity are two of my favorite things; sprinkle that with a few
of my favorite humans and this seemed like the perfect plan was the
perfect plan.
You know when things just come together? We haphazardly
picked up groceries and packed the night before, leaving notes on the door just
in case we forgot anything. We still forgot things, but we had the essentials.
We left a little later than planned, but we left early enough. There were no
decent campsites available when we arrived, but in less than an hour the
perfect spot was vacated and we claimed it. We didn’t have enough rope but a
previous camper had left some in a tree. It was little things like that over
and over the entire weekend.
Not only that, but I was with three of the happiest campers. Let me just tell you what kind of people they are, okay! These
are people with fascinating thoughts and incredible dreams. My friends are the
kind of people who say, “Yeah, let’s go on a 13 mile hike. It might rain, but
we can do it!” They are also the kind of people who get distracted from said
hike by conversations with Appalachian Trail thru-hikers. They are the perfect
people to get caught in a mountain rainstorm with because they laugh or splash
puddles on you or tell you your hair looks nice in the rain. They are friends
who sing, friends who are kind, friends who speak their mind. I love them.
I almost wrote that this was a pretty ordinary camping trip,
just with extraordinary people, but that is a complete lie. This was a superior
camping trip! We built an incredible shelter with just one tarp and by standing
on shoulders to make a human ladder. We roasted an entire chicken for one of
our dinners. We had a history geek and a bio medical engineer over as guests
and they told us about their months long journey on the Appalachian Trail,
including a story of being charged by a bear. We even discovered a random Dukes
of Hazard themed restaurant in the middle of nowhere and sat in The General Lee.
I live a kind-of grown up life. I love my kind-of grown up
life! I have a rad job. I have awesome roommates. I live near tons of
interesting sites and activities. But weekends like this don’t let me come
back all the way. How can I when the smell of campfire is lingering in my hair and my legs are aching to wander?
I wrestle with the painful yet satisfying joy of nostalgia.
My heart aches for a few more mornings that promise a new adventure. I have a
case of the runaways and I’m pretty sure they refuse to be cured; but salty air
and crashing waves might be what take the edge off for now.
