I sat by the campfire, listening to the sounds of the forest, and the stream flowing right beside our camp site. I could hear the birds , the logs on the fire popping, and some of the other campers around us.

People were laughing and hollering back and forth at each other. The whole atmosphere was so peaceful. This was our last night here, and the thought of going home was horrible.

When we first got to our camp site at the start of our vacation, my husband was setting up camp, and selfish me, I, with pole in hand, had already waded out in to the middle of the stream.

Here that man is up there setting everything up , and I'm catching trout already. I decided I'd better go up, and help him, but there was only so much daylight, and I didn't really want to waste any of it.

When I came up out of the water, he told me that there was a pair of waders in the back of the pickup. It was too late by then, I was already soaked. We roughed it, we always did. Tent and all.

One night a storm hit, with lightning, and thunder rolling so hard and fast, the wind tore our tent out of the ground. My husband was out in the storm, in his underwear, fixing the tent. He got it all done, and crawled right back in.

I decided that was enough for me. I can handle a lot, like a tornado on my tail, or a rushing wind, but that thunder and lightning , Not my thing. I got the keys, and spent the rest of the night in the pickup. He just went back to sleep. I crouched in the truck with a blanket over my head because the lightening was so fierce.

As you get older though, you pick up foam rubber mattresses to put under the sleeping bag. That's still roughing it, because , when you go to get up off of the ground the next morning, Believe me, It's rough. If you can get up off the ground. And you know, the last thing an older person wants to admit, is that they need help.

He always got up early, and made the coffee. There's nothing any better than smelling coffee being made over an open fire. We would fish to our hearts content, or until we caught our limit, whichever came first. We'd share fish with all our neighbor's, and then I'd cook a couple for us.

We would take a rest for a while in the afternoon, and sit by the fire at night and absorb all the peace and quiet. Sometimes we wouldn't even talk. We didn't have to. Nature was singing all around us. The fire was lit, and warm. The smell of pine and the merry campers all around us. It was awesome.

The whole week was like that. No telephones, no one coming over, just he and I and nature. Sitting there that last night, the tears welled up, and I couldn't hide it. It was a perfect week, and I didn't want it to end, but it's a memory I will always cherish.

But all good things have to come to an end, and the week was over. Time to load up. and head for home. We didn't really talk much on the way home. I know he felt the same way as I did. One week of paradise, and back to the year of hard work.

Learn more about this author, Candy Jules.
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