Campfire

My wife and I had the opportunity to visit friends at their campsite in one of Wisconsin’s state parks. I’ve known this couple for thirty-seven years. It seems like only yesterday.
We toured the park where children were riding their bikes and playing tag like I did a long time ago. My days of playing tag even with grandchildren for more than a few minutes are almost gone now, and my days of playing horseshoes all afternoon, well that is never going to happen.
We gathered around a fire and while staring at the flames I started thinking about days gone by when the warmth given off by the flames filled the damp night air and the smell of smoke permeated my clothing. Days when Smores shared with little people who succeeded in burning marshmallows to a crisp over the flames and nights when catching fireflies was a big event before settling onto a blanket and watching the stars spin overhead while scanning the sky for shooting stars and satellites. Camping was so much fun then. Now my idea of camping is a hotel room without a microwave or coffee maker in the room.
Thanks to my longtime friends I was able to relive the memory, if only for a few hours without the hassle of fighting mosquitoes.
The smell of campfire smoke in my clothes made me smile when I returned home until I tossed them in the washer, leaving only the pleasant memory.
Have a great day!

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