rachel's blog

I spent a couple hours this evening curled up in my hammock chair with a book. I’m taking an intensive class next week, and I’ve been intensively procrastinating, so I grabbed one of the required books from my shelf and headed outside to enjoy the beautiful evening.

The mosquitoes were feasting on my legs and ankles, and when my next-door neighbors came outside to sit on their porch, I wondered how soon they would start scratching. Sure enough, within a few minutes, the mosquitoes found my neighbors and my neighbors found their bug spray.

And then all of a sudden, somewhere around page 78, I was at a campground.

I heard the clang of the tent poles as my sisters and I dumped them out of their bags and connected the color-coded segments. I heard the tap-tap-tap of the hammer as Dad drove the stakes into the dirt. I heard the zipper opening the door of the tent before I threw in my sleeping bag, pillow, and polka-dot duffel bag.

I saw the blue glow of the propane flame as Mom prepared dinner. I saw the campground map that helped us locate the nearest bathroom. I saw dripping children wrapped in brightly-colored towels, walking back from the pool.

I smelled the lighter fluid and charcoal from a neighboring campsite. I smelled the bug spray as we all took turns coating our arms and legs. I smelled bannock, browning to perfection in the cast iron skillet.

I felt envious of the campground staff in their cool polo shirts and khaki shorts, zipping around in the golf cart. I felt the vinyl tablecloth as we spread it out over the picnic table. And I felt tears well up in my eyes as I realized that I was still on page 78.

I had visited a place that now exists only in my family’s collective memory, and those sights, sounds, and smells seemed far away. Then again, perhaps they were as close as a few squirts of OFF.