"I thought we were camping, but we were homeless for three months..." had to be one of the funniest stories I've ever heard out of the, "Bedtimes stories for children you hate," book that was brought by one of the couples that we just went camping with this weekend. I'm not sure why that particular passage strikes me as funny because the rest of the story sucked. There were so many others that made this one pale in comparison. So, yes, you read correctly. I went camping. I don't know why that is so hard for some people to believe. My ex, as he was pleading, "Please, Robyn, don't let anything happen to our son," said jokingly, "I really never saw you as the camping type." Well, maybe because you never really saw me at all. Oooooh, that's deep. But, I was a little nervous. I don't like bugs. I have stage fright when it comes to peeing outside. *sigh* Alas, I'd be with my man, friends, and my 7y/o son. It was a very fun weekend with lots of laughs and my son actually caught a fish. There were 5 couples there including D and myself and watching the dynamics between all of them and us made me do a lot of thinking. I've known for quite a while that I'm a handful. I've never made any qualms about that. I desire a lot of attention because I went without it my entire life. There is a very big difference between loving someone and throwing money at someone when there's a problem. I've always had the latter. I think that's why I don't put value on material things like I should. Or, moreover, why I have such distaste for materialistic people. I grew up not knowing if my friends were there because I had an indoor pool, a maid, a limo, my mother drove a rolls royce, or if they were there because of me. Anyway, the attention thing...I give tons. I express it. I say I love you because you never know what's going to happen tomorrow. I communicate and talk things out because if I hold it in I will explode on you the next time you put mayo on my sandwich when I wanted mustard. I talk and think slowly and methodically. I use a lot of words. Dude, I'm a frickin writer. But I'm with someone who is my opposite most of the time. He thinks fast, talks fast, and for the most part, I would say is kind of a loner. So when do you compromise? How do you? What do you decide on being fair?
D sits on the bag chair, "Scoot a little bit to the left, would ya. I need some room for the guitar." so I move over. My son sits next to me in his chair that is perfectly proportioned to his size. He wears a bright tye-dyed t-shirt and he's exhausted from the day of bike riding, swimming, fishing, playing. He holds a bongo drum between his knees and bangs it out of time with the guitar music. I tip my head back as I look at the stars. Where's the big dipper? I think I can see the handle. My G-d, the stars are so bright. Crack. The fire pops and I swear the sparks are only aimed at me. I love the smell of the campfire. I see the other kids holding their marshmallows over the fire to make s'mores. I look back over at my man and watch his fingers move on the strings and I can't help but fall in love every time I look at him. It's been hell this trip. I've purposely been keeping my distance from him knowing he doesn't like to be crowded when it's hot out. But it physically pains me not to touch him. I watch him flip through the song book and he turns to me, "Sing this song." Yes, sir. I turn back to see my son and he's fallen asleep over the bongo. It's the cutest thing I've ever seen. We all take pictures. Is that wrong? I pick him up and D helps me put him in bed in the tent. We come back to the fire and continue to sing and play music. One of the women reads hilarious stories off her kindle. All the while I'm thinking can I live a life without the attention that I want? I want to hold his hand but I know it will just annoy him. When all the other couples were swimming and together, where was he? Why do I feel like he just wants to be with everybody and not alone with me? Will it be like this all the time? He's been with my son fishing, playing, swimming all weekend. Why would he do that if he didn't love me? So, is it just me? Try to find him right, Robyn. The campfire dies down and everyone goes to bed. D fixes a snack for his neverending hunger and I come out to the dark campsite to sit with him under the stars. It's so quiet and I feel a million miles away from home and from him. He is the first true love I've ever had. Can't think anymore. Too tired. Bed. Sleep. Morning. Packup. Drive. Tired. Unpack car. Drag body upstairs. Unfuckingbelieveable, I have to make dinner. I can barely pick up my arms. No, really, (bang freezer door) you two boys just sit there (slam cabinet) and watch tv...I'll be fi...and I look over into my living room from my kitchen and I see D and my son lying on the couch. My son lying in front of my man and D has his arm over my son and they are watching Scooby-Doo together. They are both so contented. My son snuggles against D and closes his eyes. My face softens and I realize that this is my pleasure now to serve my men. We eat dinner together and go to sleep by 8:30pm. Elan leaves for camp in the morning and when I get back to bed, I feel like my man has come back to me. He holds me, whispers in my ear things that are for me to hear, and we talk about how we can make our lives better. Do I have the answers? No. Do I have any idea what I'm doing? Not a clue. Is it worth it? I look at it like this...I've never loved anyone the way I love him. I will try anything and everything as long as he loves me, too. Maybe it's the fresh air that cleared my head and his.
As always, thank you for taking time to read about my life.
I am grateful for:
Sisters that I've inherited
music around a campfire
Christmas in July
coffee with Irish Cream
role-models of love
blankets and hot showers
my beautiful son and his adaptability
my gorgeous man and his capability
friends who showed my son amazing kindness
the big dipper
sunshine
Sheli's cleaning skills and Jtb's cooking
My song picks are
What's Up by 4 non-blondes
Freebird by Lynard Skynard
