I miss camping. A lot. I miss it not as one misses a hobby or a skill that you just did not manage to keep up with or hold onto as you passed through life. It miss it with an intense ... nostalgia.

I miss it the way some of my friends miss airports, another state, or another country. I miss the forest as you would a good friend or a grandparent.

It has been...too many years since I was last camping. Years? How did it ever get to years? What have I been doing that I have not slept in the woods for so long? I actually do not know how long it has been, but I know that I have at least failed for the entirety of college.  The fact that I do not actually know when I last went camping is astounding to me.

You see, the forest, especially at night, is home in a way that very few places ever will be. When my family moved to Montana, we lived in a tent for awhile at the KOA. When my parents divorced, my dad moved to the rafting guide campground and I spent every weekend of the summer stretched out, looking at the stars hung between tall pine trees. The rules of the city are not like the rules of the woods. Freeways make poor substitutes for wild rivers. All of the open spaces are so full. Every minute passes with a roar.

When you are camping, the only limits are those that protect your own mortality. If it does not draw blood or give you hypothermia, why shouldn't you do it? The forest is about ability. The city comes with so many expectations. The city wants you to ask permission. I am not good at asking for permission, much less accepting limitations arbitrarily assigned.

All of that to say, it is summer time and the dirt roads are telling me that it is time to go; but the city asks so many questions. How long will you be gone? What will it cost to leave? Who will take care of....? When will you be back? Where will you go? How will you get there? How will you get back? 

People seem to think that these questions mean something to me. To an extent, they do. But only in the same sense as a second language that you can only speak with bad grammar. At some point, I need to stop having any sort of conversation and just leave. I will never be understood by concrete and traffic. I need moss and rivers. I want to listen to the advice of wind in the trees.