We are going camping!
I don’t know how two people who hate/hated camping gave birth to me, a person who is hard pressed to think of anything she loves more than waking up in a tent. But it happened. I am not my mother nor my father’s daughter in this regard.
I didn’t really go camping until I was 16. Sometimes is terrifies me to think I could have continued on that path, never knowing these things about myself:
I need to breathe air cleansed by the wild. I need to feel the warmth of the fire, and of my sleeping bag. I need the quiet.
I am grateful to those that brought me outside and showed me the door to discovering who I am. I hope I would have figured it out eventually. But you never know.
Have a great weekend, dear readers. May you find a slice of your own heaven, whatever that looks like for you.