St. Andrews State Park, Florida.
Original Photo by SnapDragon X.
All rights reserved, yo.
Greetings, Dear Reader!
The SnapDragon Family is currently on the road, seeing some sights during this all-too-depressing season of lockdown during winter in Pennsylvania.
(starts shivering, and hides head beneath a blanket)
We’re cozied up in our Berkshire Class-A RV, embracing the open road and relishing the chance to travel to the American southeast.
Sure it’s just us three—we’re still in a pandemic, mind you—but we’re outta the house, and it’s an adventure all the same.
Iced coffees, sweatpants, and our favorite tunes, at the ready.
Full tank. Fresh wiper blades.
Family.
And throughout these days of State Park living, your girl SnapDragon’s been a-thinkin’.
We’ve seen a lot of other people with the same let’s-get-out-for-a-bit mentality.
We’ve seen other big-ass RVs; teardrop pull-trailers; fifth-wheels; gorgeous Airstream silver bullets; even a handful of tents.
And as we’ve hopped from site to site, I’ve thought to myself, Why do humans do this? Why do we find joy in camping? Why do we like to simplify our lives for a few weeks at a time, relishing the solitude, only to then return to Life As Usual?
These questions were particularly prevalent as I peered across the Savannah trees, covered in deliciously-dreamy moss, and spotted a single, solitary tent.
The tent was a nondescript blue and gray nylon, and looked especially thin and cold as the rain beat mercilessly down upon it. A station wagon was nestled beside it, a reliably dry companion amidst the storm.
And from my perch in our fully-equipped house on wheels, hot mug of coffee in hand, I thought, Damn. That’s dedication, yo.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not judging. Maybe that tent was a paradise compared to what its owner had come from: A roof, four(ish) walls, and a place to zip up and shut off from the world at the end of the day.
I mean, really: Isn’t that what it’s all about?
We humans like to carve out spaces of our own.
We like to stake our claim, and say, Here I am.
And perhaps the whole idea of camping—or glamping, like we do—is to remind ourselves of what truly matters.
Air. Sunshine. Fire. Water.
Good people. Good books. Good conversation.
And as we sojourn on a newly paved path, or trails long since forgotten by campers past, may we remember who we are.
May we remember that the only guarantee in life is this moment here between us.
This one.
This day, this night.
This exchange of breath that keeps us going.
Simple.
Magical.
Human.
We are here.
. . .
What are your thoughts on this, dear friends? Do you ever go camping? Why or why not? What do we gain from traveling? From getting out of our permanent homes for a bit?
Let’s chat!
. . .
SnapDragon is a writer, painter, blogger, and die-hard devotee of the breakfast burrito.
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