The year was 1990.  On the jukebox were some fav’s: “What it Takes”, “All I Wanna Do”, and “Sweet Child O’ Mine.” My dad and brother were off looking at colleges for the weekend, so my mom dragged me kicking and screaming (really) to go to her good friends campground (yes, that is a pic from the actual place).  I hated her friends son, and really…a campground? Like, totally GAH-ROSS!!

Little did I know…that little campground in Franklinville, NY would come to mean everything. I would meet my best friend that would be one of the two people that helped me survive middle school…and that that best friend would be related to that boy I hated so much. It would become so important that I would BEG my parents to buy a camper and they did – on my birthday that year (appropriate as today is my birthday…)!!

I remember everything – and if I don’t, we kept records that remind me of little things I forgot.  I have tons of posts I could fill with the memories, but the one that stuck with me tonight and brought it all up again (it has been close to my memory a lot lately as that friend just found me again on FaceBook:D)….was the campfires.

Every night, I mean we were camping, the adults would make a campfire.  We would be off playing, not really allowed in the circle where the adults spoke of adult things.  We ran and played until “the light went out” and then it was back to whomever’s camper we were sleeping in that night (because really, I think EVERY night was a sleepover there). 

Inside the camper (or tent) we’d play rummy, gorge on Doritos and Hot Cocoa, laughing our butts off.  Outside of our laughter I remember the adults, still circled around the fire, laughing themselves.  We were allowed into the circle for brief spurts, but it always reverted to adult time, adult conversation…and we’d meander back to our game of Rummy.

Tonight it hit me hard that I am now in the adult circle.  There is no campfire, but the adults are circled around.  Conversations flow. Kids wander in, only to take off again into the night until curfew.  Our neighborhood is enclosed, and they’re alwys close…but they are relegated to the night…and I am now among those keeping warm in sweaters and shooing off the children so we can get back to grown up discussion.

It happened too soon.  I was never ready to let go of Rain, Rain and more Rain (what we ‘affectionately’ called the campground)…but we moved out of state and parents cancelled our seasonal site…and life moved on.  I grew up…and life took a 360 many times over…

I wasn’t ready to let go of childhood when the years didn’t seem to pass so quick, but the summers sure did.  When it seemed like I would never be like those crazy adults, or the women on the commercials that suddenly cater to ME and MY (not so) fine lines.

I’m not sad to be over 30 (again). I love my life and my kids.

But the little girl in me still longs for the summers at the cottage, the camper, the blizzards in winter, the life she once knew.  She remembers them clearly and fondly.  I didn’t have a bad childhood.  I haven’t had a bad life, period.  I miss the old days, but look forward to creating more old days for my kids…I just have to learn to live with sitting around the campfire – not in the camper with Doritos and Hot Cocoa.