I remember when the people I was with and I were little and dad constantly took us camping.
Dad would say something about needing to stay beach house so she could get some work done, and dad would smile.
I never guess she easily worked while the people I was with and I were gone, even though she enjoyed the alone time. The two of us had to come beach house early 1 weekend, and Dad was in the garden tub relaxing. She had a glass of wine on the side of the tub and a book in her hand. The two of us could guess the heat flowing around us when the people I was with and I walked in the door. She yelled out to see who was home, and dad walked in on her. I heard her laugh when she said the people I was with and I should join her, and maybe the people I was with and I could all get hot and she kicked him out of the lavatory. It hadn’t gotten so cold at the campground that the people I was with and I were all sleeping on a mattress together, then poor dad got shoved onto the cold ground and spent most of the night shivering. When the people I was with and I woke up in the morning, the firepit was already lit and the people I was with and I huddled there for some warmth, while dad was still asleep in the car. I suddenly realized why Dad didn’t go camping with us. It was cold in the mountains and there was no comfort. I liked mom’s take on camping better. Now that I am older, I stay beach house where there is heating and air conditioning. I have a garden tub and a pool in the backyard, but I am never far away from my Heating and Air Conditioning system, and I never smell of smoke.