I Miss Those Times
In a time and place when I was young.
My father would take me and my sister camping.
I was very fond of camping.
Silence rung in my ears at night, along with the wind and the sound of laughter.
Sounds of cars driving by and dry wood in the fire crackling.
Though during the night, you’d get lost in thought, and you saw darkness, and when you looked up at the sky you saw the moon, twinkling stars, bats.
However, when you look ahead, you saw the scary trees, towering over you, and hovering over the road where the ranger would drive by at night.
Over time, you’d feel relaxed, you’d feel the wind trickling down your spine.
Soon you’d feel cold, sitting on the camp’s swing set.
Eventually, we had to go back to our cabins right by the park, and you’d sit by the fire, with a blanket around your shoulders, because your father put it around you.
The smell of burning firewood would fill the air, along with cigarettes, and barbecue.
It comes to a point where you taste the meat your uncle is cooking, the chips you fill your mouth with, along with soda and behind all of it, you’d taste the fresh air from the trees surrounding.
My mind gets lost when I think of night, I feel, relaxed.
Emotions soon haunt me, I feel happiness, depression, distance, deafening silence, and I think of my family.
Soon I realize, that the beginning of every sentence I speak, they spill out, I Miss Those Times.