Last night when I went to bed I laid there as a movie of memories played through my brain, memories of camping trips we took when I was a child. As an adult I now try to analyze why my mother didn’t like the trips and what exactly my dad was trying to accomplish. I remember the experience of camping but not many of the places we went. I remember the smells of camping, the textures of the tent and the sleeping bags. I remember the elaborate packing of the trunk of our 63′ Cadillac with me riding in the back seat with Dad driving and my mom up front with him and her dog always beside her in the front seat. I remember my mom packing a container of water for Penny Sue and always having a washcloth handy for my dad while he was driving to help walk him up. I remember some of the stops we made, usually overlooks and my dad wanting me to get very close to the edge. I halfhearted wonder sometimes if he was either trying to kill me, give my mom a heart attack or force me to overcome my fears, what was he thinking?! I’ll never have answers to any of my questions but still they remain. I’ll never know what either of my parents truly desired in this life, why they did some of the things they did. There are memories that once used to be good that have become tainted over time, why is that? Is it because I have remembered more over time or is it because I can no longer see things as a child does? I wish I could travel back in time as an observer and see what was truly going on at the time. I wish I could whisper as the wind does into the memory of my father and tell him he didn’t have to always be so harsh. I wish I could tell him it would have been okay to relax and enjoy himself. I wish I could tell my mother that she didn’t have to be so self conscious, she was beautiful as she was and to listen to her heart and not the words of others. I wish, I wish, I wish..