He Listens, He Remembers

He closed his eyes.

His uncle’s camper had that old wet and musty smell. The scent was stronger in his mind then it had been thirty years ago. Sleeping in the camper that night was way better than being in the house. In the house, he was always within sight of his parents prying eyes. Here, being outside all alone (well almost all alone) was the coolest thing he’d ever done.

He pulled the wool blanket over his shoulders and under his chin and listened. He heard the wind blow the branches of the trees overhead. He heard crickets just outside and a cat screech at a distance. He heard the familiar voice of his sister tell him stories of ‘what we’ll do when we get outta here’. He dreamed of what life would be like once he finally grew up.

“Daddy?” A smallish voice awakens him from his reverie. “Daddy, can Ellie and I sleep outside in the tent tonight?”

“No,” he said. “Ellie, you and I will be sleeping in the tent tonight! I have some stories to tell you that Aunt Elsha told me.”

They smiled. He remembered.

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