This was an exhausting, dark, cold, November camping trip. We brought wood from home and dragged two large driftwood logs over to keep our campfire going til morning. It almost did. The 5am chill woke me up and left me with no ambition but standing over that fire, as close as I could get. The warmth felt good. The smell of camp smoke was good. Looking into the fire I saw how beautiful it is: white, orange, red flames, designs and patterns, crackling wood. As I kick the dying embers with my boots sparks burst from the fire and the flames rise. I follow the sparks up; they lead my gaze to the stars. 'Man it is dark and those stars are bright' I think. 'Look Amy - there is the little dipper coming over the hill, next to the trees.' I said to Amy the night before. I watched it all night. It traveled from the north canyon ridge all the way to the south ridge by the morning hours.
Why does it seem we do more living in those short trips to nature? Why do they leave us with a treasure of memories, in only a day or two of physical time. For me I guess it is because I am closer to the elements I love. I come home with memory images that are mine forever. The best on this trip was on my walk through the night to get firewood. Sparkles in the river caught my attention. 'What is that?'. 'Oh, I see; it is the stars reflecting in the river.' 'This is a dark night.' 'I do not believe I have ever seen that before.'
There is Amy over there next to the fire with our three dogs. Tall Ponderosa tower above our camp and my old truck. I am standing alone at the edge of the river. There are no lights, no other campers. The soft music of the river fills my ears. The air is still and is beginning to cool. Before long I may be gone, but all this will remain - the hills, the trees, the rocks, the river, the stars. What can I leave this world that is important? What impact will I have in my short life?
As soon as I ask the question I know the answer. She is sitting over there by the fire.
Good memories of times like this with her Dad will return to her. And like stories they will continue on, and remain alive.