Went with the Boy Scouts to the local lake for a campout. The evening sunset was splendid. The food was fantastic. The stories were amazing. The jokes were hilarious. The memories are forever. There's something about being outdoors around a campfire with friends and youth. Something that brings a feeling of nostalgia for another time when technology didn't rule the world and humankind actually interacted with each other in outdoor settings. Of course I wouldn't trade my time now for a time earlier on, but maybe that's why campouts are so much fun--they give you an opportunity to revisit a quieter time away from all the busyness and hecticness of life.
Anyway, the day was warm, the night was cold. I climbed into my sleeping bag and ensured the flap covered everything from my head to my toes. I slept like a baby in my four-man tent by myself. I was warm. And then I woke up needing to relieve myself on a bush. That was not very appealing as I had to leave the confines of my beautifully warm cocoon and enter the frigid, in comparison, air.
Once morning came around, the Boy Scouts slowly escaped their tents. The fire was relit, hotter and brighter than the night before. Eggs and bacon were thrown on the skillet. Knots and knives were taught. Then we packed and went home.
There's something about returning to civilization and your wife after being out with the Boy Scouts. I hadn't changed any of my clothes. I had spent the majority of my time around a campfire. And I hadn't brushed my teeth. I felt great to be alive and great to return home to clean up. I missed my wife and child, but oh how I enjoyed the rustic outdoors with those Scouts.