Saturday's Missed Post

Saturday: I was home with my family all day. My four-year-old cousin, Fox, was with us. I filled the little blue kiddie pool with warm water for him and he played for an hour or so, contently and quietly, by himself. I was so tired from being on Duty the night before and having to get up early for another doctor's appointment. After he had had enough of the water, we sat by the chiminea that my father had bought (previously I said it exploded - it did not, though we thought it would, he certainly didn't follow the directions though and now it's black on the outside because of the too-large flames from the first fire he built). We made s'mores and I was happily reminded of camping. They say that smell is the sense more closely connected with memory. I totally agree. I didn't care that after we were done with the s'mores and I went to the city to meet the owner of the Chopin Theatre I smelled like a campground. I didn't care because the scent of the burning would and the roasting marshmallows brought me back ten years to when we would drive our pop-up camper to Wisconsin and spend the weekend by a lake or near the woods. We don't do that anymore. We don't have time and since we sold it, we don't have the camper. It's actually really sad when I think about it. That camper had seen us through years and years of trips, several tornadoes, countless thunderstorms and thousands of miles on the road. I'm surprised it's still alive. But it is, well at least I imagine it is. My dad was so sad to sell it because of all the memories we had made. I told him it was good that we sold the camper, because now the family who bought it, who had a little boy to raise, could take that camper to Wisconsin, to those same campgrounds, and make their own memories.