Language & Logic

The fire crackled and the smell of roasted marshmallows filled the air. I sat on the picnic bench with my strawberry crème frappuccino, watching the sparks rise into the night. My brother was roasting a marshmallow beside me while my dad tried to set up the projector for our movie. I decided to name the fire Timothy Charlemagne. It felt alive, like part of our family.

That night was one of those times where everyone was doing their own thing but still together. My mom was laughing with her friends, my brother and I were roasting s’mores, and my dad was tinkering with cords and buttons. Even when the tent was impossible to set up or the air mattresses refused to stay flat, it somehow felt funny instead of stressful. It reminded me that camping isn’t about adventure or being far from home. It’s about the little moments when everyone is just there, together.

The next morning we woke up stiff and freezing, so we drove to Starbucks for some caffeine and then went to a small café called Pür Simple for breakfast. My mango tango smoothie and giant fruit crepe were honestly unforgettable.

It wasn’t a perfect trip, but I think that’s why I’ll remember it. The laughter, the cold air, the mess, and of course, Timothy Charlemagne.