I live in St. Louis, MO, but my heart and soul hang out at the beach. I am a multi-genre, award winning writer, and speaker. I am a seasoned pre-k teacher, on line writing instructor, wife, mother, Nana to thirteen. Hopefully, something I say will make you smile, further your writing career, or inspire you to write from the heart, too. billin7@yahoo.com.
Showing posts with label campers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label campers. Show all posts
Friday, August 3, 2012
Been there, done that!
Yay! It is lightning, thundering, raining...we're having a real "electrical storm" as my mom used to call them.
Friends, Pat and Phil are retired. They ride a motorcycle and sometimes have ridden it to visit their
son in Colorado and daughter in Michigan. He's a musician with his own band and she's an accomplished artist. They've added a dog to their empty nest, so now they're hankering for a small camper for when they travel. I know that yearning. Our two campers served us for many years. Now, although I enjoy being out in nature, I prefer a motel at night.
We tented when the kids were small. One night a terrible thunderstorm with tornadic winds kicked up at the campground bending and twisting trees, lifting the tent, scaring me something awful. The lightning was frightening, and I insisted we go into town for dinner. What I really wanted was four solid walls. We huddled in an overcrowded fast food restaurant. I waited at the counter for our order, rootbeers in frosty mugs, salty fries and cheeseburgers. Every thunder boomer sacred the gee whiz out of me. I tried to stay calm for the kids' sake. As I waited in line, I sipped from the frosty mug on the tray. I sampled a french fry. I looked at the black clouds. I nibbled another fry. I sipped again when the lightning sizzled and sliced the darkness. The man standing next to me asked if I was nervous. "Yes!" I admitted.
"I thought so," he said and smiled politely. "That's my order you're eating and drinking."
Oh, if only we'd had a solid-sided camper back then for me to crawl into. I'd probably never have left the campground. Maybe.
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