Weekend Getaway
Every year my family and I take a camping trip to Brantingham Lake. As soon as I see that dark green destination sign saying “Brantingham” I get a tingly feeling in my stomach that makes me happy. The camp we rent is secluded on the edge of a peninsula. The camp can only be reached by driving on a terrifying narrow dirt road. On either side, there is a dangerous steep drop leading straight into the lake. As I approach the dirt road a mixture of feelings overcome me. My heart begins beating like a drum, hands like sticks of butter gripping the steering wheel. I try to keep my eyes straight ahead and yet my peripheral vision refuses to ignore the endless bed of water on either side of me. One quick jerk of the wheel would mean the impending doom of me and my children.
Those one hundred feet felt like a thousand miles. The kids leap out of the car in excitement. Leaving the car doors open as they run around and greet our family members who have beaten us here. I deeply inhale that wonderful campfire smell of roasted hot dogs and s’mores from nearby camps; I have finally reached my wonderful destination! When we first arrive, we unload our overly stuffed cars faster than elves making presents on Christmas Eve. As the day grows old, the temperature goes down. The men make a fire that puts some warmth in the now chilly air. We later cook some s’mores after we eat our hot dogs for dinner and oh boy are those s’mores delicious. My brother Sam, and brother-in-law John, tell stories to the kids before they go to bed and some of those stories are scary but I stopped getting scared after I was 10 years old. Normally bedtime was a problem for me, but at Brantingham I fell right to sleep every night. I would leave the windows wide open and fall asleep to the waves crashing, crickets chirping outside my window along with the rustling of the wind.
John gets the boat ready to take the kids tubing. He and Sam intentionally speed over the waves so the kids will fall off and splash into the choppy waters. To their despair, the kids have fingers made of glue. They’ve worked up a hearty appetite. They make their way back to camp mouths watering for juicy bacon cheese burgers hot off grill, my world famous potato salad and refreshing cool-aid. With sun kissed faces and stuffed bellies the excitement continues. This