Once we started hanging out on the beach in our late teens and early twenties, we spent long nights by the campfire under the moonlight on Padre Island in south Texas. We would listen to the waves crash in, play a little music on the guitar, cook a little campfire grub, and maybe throw out a fishing line or two. Those were some of the most formative years of our life, back when we were "foot loose and fancy free".
Like all things, time has changed us a little. We are a little older, and we have Penelope to hang with us around the campfire. Like every parent, I feel it is my responsibility to expose her to all of the wonderful things in life that we hold near and dear to us, and although she may be a little too young to understand it now, hanging around a campfire is a "thing" I really want her to value in life. So Monday night, I grabbed the machete and gathered and chopped a little driftwood at sunset on the beach. Two shakes later and we had us a little campfire going, enjoying that wonderful aroma, the smoke billowed up toward that moon hanging just over head, the waves rolled in, our faces were glowing, and everything was just right in our world.
I know she gets it already. You can tell by the look in her eyes when she is fireside that she is mesmerized, and I am compelled further to keep that flame glowing so she is inspired to be anything and everything she wants to be.