Droplets from the Inkwell

Writing Quickie: Morning at Camp

I lay next to John in our shared sleeping bag. The steady rhythm of his soft breathing told me that he was still asleep. I looked at his face, smiling at the the brown, unshaven stubble that peppered his cheeks, chin, and neck. I felt so warm, and I was loathe to step out into the cool air that filled the rest of our four man tent. I had to admit that John was right. While there were only two of us, the bigger tent gave us extra room that I had come to appreciate. I looked at the wall of the tent and could that it was bathed in light. I couldn’t tell the exact position of the sun, but I guessed it had risen fully above the horizon. I figured if it hadn’t yet, the dew would soon be fully burned off from its warm rays. I listened as a pair of chipmunks chittered. I guessed that they were running around the ground near the small pine tree that was about twenty feet from the tent.

I decided it was time to get moving, as my bladder let me know it was experiencing discomfort. I took a deep breath and braced myself as I pulled back the sleeping bag and slipped from its warm confines. John stirred slightly as I pulled a pair of jeans over my boxers and donned a flannel shirt. I took one more look at his sleeping form as I unzipped the door to the tent and stepped outside.

JarredH

Our tears remind us that we're alive. Our laughter reminds us why.