When it came to family vacations, we were not known for organized packing or timely departures. We were usually at each other's throats prior to actually getting in the car, shutting the doors, and driving away. Nothing was especially different about the way we handled our preparations for our camping trip in the summer of '95.
I remember that Pete finished his packing before anybody else. He couldn’t understand why we couldn’t be a normal family that leaves on time, according to The Plan. He had been doing a noticeable job of complaining, which enhanced the misery the rest of us were feeling. That is, until (a few miles down the road) he remembered that he hadn’t returned a movie he’d rented. We retraced the miles and took back the movie. Since Pete was now officially the one who held us up, he stopped his complaining. The rest of us wisely chose not to rub it in, and thus we began a remarkably peaceful coexistence in the car for the duration of the trip.
It was a Saturday in early August. Leaving Jacksonville in the afternoon, we traveled as far as Strom Thurmond Lake in South Carolina for our first night of camping. Luckily for us, torrential rains the night before had caused other campers in the area to leave. We had an entire peninsula of campsites to ourselves! With pleasant weather and no one else around, it was like backpacking without the trouble. The sky was so clear we could see a million points of light. Not just stars… but galaxies, satellites and shooting stars!
Though the ground was still wet, the pavement of the narrow road was dry. Marianne, Pete and Erin lay upon its bare surface, each cushioning the head of another. We were all in awe… not just of what we could see in the sky, this far from city lights; not just of what we could hear, so far from the din of civilization; but also of the fact we could be enjoying it all together.
I broke into the moment with the click of a Pentax and a painful flash of light. It was not appreciated, but (years later) it was forgiven.
