A Million Little Pieces Of My Mind

We'd done long-term camping once before, at Stone Mountain. But then we had a trailer in Florida to go back to, and to store our stuff. Now we had to get a storage unit for our stuff, but that was not expensive and camping in Virginia was virtually free of cost. There was a limit of two weeks' stay at each campground, but all we had to do was move to another campground every two weeks, which made that a plus rather than a minus.

We had the two tents: A big one for the kids; the smaller dome tent for Mary and me. Now, it occurs to me now that, technically, we were homeless. But we were young enough, and that was long enough ago that we didn't get mail and so didn't really need the solid address. And we weren't hungry; for the kids it was more like a really long summer vacation.

The kids have found endless ways to entertain themselves at Lake Fairfax and other county campgrounds, weaving simple pleasures into lasting memories. They spent hours pedaling rented paddleboats across the calm lake, and tested their courage on the park's modest but thrilling waterslide. Trails through the woods invited exploration, where they collected curious rocks, chased fireflies at dusk, and invented adventures among the trees. The campground itself offered open fields for Frisbee and impromptu baseball, while picnic tables became stages for games and storytelling. At night, the crackle of a campfire set the rhythm for roasting marshmallows, trading jokes, and gazing at constellations that seemed brighter in the clear Virginia sky. It was a time when imagination filled the gaps left by the absence of screens, and the simplest diversions—swimming, biking, or just wandering—became the fabric of childhood adventure.

There were several county campgrounds for us to stay at. Lake Fairfax was our favorite; it was also the one most conveniently located for Mary to drive and pick me up at the nearest Metro station for work. But we also stayed at further out Silver Lake, which happened to be home to a flock of geese who seemed to think they owned the place.

I imagine the geese, noting that we had just arrived, were hoping for some handouts. But we had barely finished unpacking. In any case, they were as big as the smaller kids, and the kids and Mary sought shelter on the picnic table as the birds became more and more aggressive.

I couldn't stop laughing, but I grabbed a beach towel, and held it out behind my back so it would look like extended wings, which is what the geese were doing when I threatened them. They backed off and left us alone after that. When dealing with bullies, it helps to speak their language.