Into the Woods

I didn't see a bear. It was actually pretty fun despite that fact. Of course the first night was torture considering we were all holed up in the same plastic bag, essentially. The tent was definitely big enough, but damn... sleeping in one room would not have been my strong suit, had I lived in the early 1800s... or whatever.

Around 5:30 AM, the rain started. It was pounding the tarp draped above our tent, so loud that we had to shout to each other if we wanted to be heard. I just plugged myself into Ke$ha and laid in my sleeping bag watching the droplets stream down the sides of the bright red plastic. At one point during the night my brother's ear buds had got tangled in my own, and ended up in the same sleeping bag. When I followed the chord down and found an unattached jack, not knowing it wasn't the same set as was in my own iPod, it wigged me out. I thought Ke$ha was broadcasting right into my skull. I had gotten minimal sleep, alright? Cool it. Gawsh.

The storm felt like it took hours to finally subside... but then everything feels like it takes hours when you're lying in the middle of the woods. Time is a funny thing when you don't have a clock next to your head. Your mind starts to make things up and you just arbitrarily believe yourself even if you might be way off.

Nighttime is wonderful in the woods, second only to dawn. We were in a campsite, which means we were surrounded on all sides by a bunch of other families, although they seemed distant in the early hours of the chilly morning. But when it got dark, we all felt like one big family. One guy brought his guitar a couple sites over, and we could hear his slow, quiet strumming late into the night. It was very cliche, but I was in love anyway.

However, when that sun rises, there's just no way to describe it. Beautiful is far from the right word. I remember my father took me hiking in the Appalachians one winter weekend. A couple of mornings earlier I had inquired of him why our family didn't go to church more often. This was years ago. That day at dawn, the sun rose over the snow-capped mountains. A field covered in its own blanket of white powder was spread out before us. It was wild, chaotic, untamed, yet peaceful, silent. Utter awe and tranquility filled my entire being, I was stopped in my tracks.

"This is my church," my father had whispered, standing right next to me.