This is just a little story of my life growing up, it isn't my whole life as you can probably tell, but its a part of it that is dear to me and that i will never forget.
This place is where I grew up.
It was my never ending adventure and everyday something new would be found as I explored it with my little brother when we were younger. It was a place where a child's mind could run wild like the river and grow like the timeless trees. This place was a campground on the mountain. The campground was on privately owned land, which meant it was all ours. No real rules put down to trip us, nothing to shut us out, just a place in the valley all to ourselves. It was like a second home to my brother and I, and it still is, just instead of going up there every weekend...now I only go up once a year if I'm lucky.
Even though I’m not there as much as used to be I can still remember it. It was the place that helped me become who I am. I remember it all. The rain as it danced on the huge orange tarps and rolled off the sides like a light waterfall. All those giant puddles to jump in after the rainy night. The morning sun that peeked through the trees and made every dew drop sparkle like lingering stars.
I can still feel the sand between my toes as me and my little brother walked barefoot along the rivers edge. Those colorful and smooth rocks that we would skip into the river as it rushed by us down the valley. All the creations created and ideas openly shared together. The hours spent swimming in the lake, and trying to catch tad poles and frogs in our bare hands. Those family walks in the forest that revealed all the nightly visitors. There tracks and trails that we would curiously follow all day in hopes of seeing who they belonged to.
I remember it all, every new thing found, every color that draped lavishly around me. The wonderful nights by the fire as a family, laughing as the fired fed on what we tossed in, and the discovery of pine-needles popping in the heat. Listening to trees whisper to one another in the wind and wondering what they were talking about.
Everything about that place seemed perfect to me, and when we went back home the comforting smell of nature and smoke still lingered on our clothing as a silent but strong reminder. Those days came so slowly though, every one taking longer than the next as we waited for the weekend to arrive so that we could continue our exploring and unfinished adventures. We weren't waiting to go to some run down piece of land, not to some forgotten campground. We were waiting to get back to our place...our home, my home.
The place where I grew up…and became me.