The Woods

Tomorrow, I leave on a camping trip with my son. Mario's participation is still up in the air, not because he doesn't want to go, but because we need to factor in his physiotherapy appointments. If he can, he will. And if he can't, he won't. Either way, I MUST.

Lest I seem a heartless bitch, let me assure you that Mario realized something very fundamental about me years ago: I must go to the woods. At least once a year, I physically must retreat to a place where there is only sky, wind, water, and pine sap in my hair. I have to do this to mainatin my sanity, to recharge my batteries. And he gets that.

Brian is very excited, he always is when it's just the two of us, not only because he gets my undivided attention but because he still finds it amusing that I can do everything without someone (a man) helping me. Yes, Brian, your mother is perfectly able to pitch a tent, put up the screen tent, split wood, build a fire, and cook dinner with no man to help her. Hey, there are worse things my kid could learn...

I'm not sure why I need these retreats to nature so desperately, but I do. I need silence. I need dappled sunlight. I need rain at the most inconvenient moments. I need leaking tents at 3:00 am, and I need raccoons in the screen tent at 4:00 am, when I am the only adult around and am forced to deal with these masked intruders on my own, wearing only a T-shirt, panties, and sneakers, armed only with a lantern and a stick. I NEED THIS.