Fire can soothe the city life aftermath...
I was the last to arrive last night, fighting Harrisburg traffic and listening to old radio through valleys, trying to adjust my vision while my ears adjusted to the pressure. I drove out of brightly-lit cities shrouded in smog to dark roads with nary a light in sight. I careened up the mountain roads in what would be Onyx's first time to Shamokin, still parking on the hill I have parked on for almost a decade. While some would not make it this year, we again had the same crew to gather around campfires and update on our most recent adventures. Some of us haven't talked since we gallivanted to Atlanta, some of us haven't communicated in three days, but all of us still gather around the campfire and have the flames lick at our frazzled city nerves.
I dressed in the blue velour pants, donning sneakers made out of Sherpa fur to keep my feet warm. I dug out my West Virginia hoodie due to the occasion, and comment that I'll still be wearing it when I'm 40. We threw cigarette butts into the fire box, realizing how many times we had done it previously. It's the same farmhouse, though we no longer have to kick the fridge door since it's updated to a nice, black fridge in an old farm kitchen. A neighbor came drunkenly into the back yard, sitting around our fire, grunting, and randomly spouting off numbers. We eventually were able to convince him to go home once he stated he had to pee; we decided it would be a better idea for him to go home and do that instead of against the house. I dragged myself up to Kayrin's childhood bedroom smelling of wood smoke, crawling into the space Hunny left me amid Kayrin's collection of dolls. I closed the door just right, hard enough to lock it but not so forceful as to shake the house.
We wake up in the afternoon, finding our wood-smoked clothing and traipsing up a mountain to peruse a graveyard for grandparents long ago past. We thanked Onyx's bigger engine for dealing with the mountains of Shamokin; Kermit certainly couldn't have done it. Hunny applauds my ability to navigate through tight streets, and I applaud Hunny's capability for finding her grandparents, as I always have such an issue finding mine.
Finally going through the mountains to head to Knoeble's, we listen to rap music and talk about the men in our lives. We talk about how we're irritated with people, and how she knows where to put Monopoly pieces in my new car. We smoke cigarettes and fight with our hair, and then join the long line of cars pouring into the lot. After executing an amazing reverse job, we meet up with friends briefly only to disperse once again in the hunt for fried vegetables and cheese on a stick. We actually check out the craft fair this year, buying syrup that's the consistency of honey but tastes like molasses. I find homemade dips for bread in the flavor of bruschetta, and Hunny comments that women still want to talk to me despite their aching feet. We found a man who takes pictures of letters found in nature, and I mused which word to make a statement in my living room. Between needing a picture of a traffic light, Hunny and I finally decided which word would be the best option and had the man make it into frames.
Beer cans, a dartboard, and a martini glass. Naturally, Hunny finds it ENJOYable.
After depositing our finds, we wrapped fleeces around our hips and sauntered back into the park for prize-winning pizza and a Mountain Dew already gotten by a friend. Kayrin initiated our newest addition into the Haunted Mansion while we sat on rocks, smoked, and shook our heads a lot. We arranged ourselves into typical picture-taking formations, picking up Bluejay and placing her on various stationary objects for better pictures. We rode wooden roller coasters too cold and too fast to the point I was crying, then Otter Bucket treated us to photos for our fridges in our respective homes. I drove an antique car with a total of five women in it, surrounded by screams and collaring one man because he was too close to my personal space. The merry-go-round granted me another metal ring to hold my keys together. We piled back into our cars, driving back over mountains and screaming a bit on the curves. We came home to a fire, where there was burning candles and cups of Dew, pepperoni slices and various bags of cheese. There's talk of drinking, but my knees are too cold, and too many painkillers would make me collapse. I plan on making a few s'mores, smoking some cigarettes, and letting the fire calm the city-frazzled nerves I've developed.
There has been talk of my flying into Harrisburg next year for this event, along with the other gatherings that will happen throughout the year. I have started calculating in my head how much money I should be saving for all of these plane trips. The adventure that will unfold next year is at the front of my mind, but with the smoke and the friendship, maybe I can ignore what is destined to come. I can leave Baltimore for two nights and relive my college years, albeit less alcohol and more painkillers. I can share a bed with Hunny like we used to do four years ago before she had a new boyfriend and I wasn't "dating" a man. We can all forget what our city lives have brought us, sharing some stories, but mostly reminiscing about what we did four, five, seven years ago while staying at this farmhouse. I can go weaving through the mountains in my new car since I couldn't with Kermit. I can eventually go back to my city, and deal with my job, my men, my bar. But tonight is for the smoke, with the porch lights off and smog-less star-filled sky. I am now the only one without cell phone reception; everyone else's phones are "smarter" than mine and can pick up this cool new thing called "wi fi." For two nights, I have these women, these memories, stars, smoke, and a fire...
... I wouldn't have it any other way.
I dressed in the blue velour pants, donning sneakers made out of Sherpa fur to keep my feet warm. I dug out my West Virginia hoodie due to the occasion, and comment that I'll still be wearing it when I'm 40. We threw cigarette butts into the fire box, realizing how many times we had done it previously. It's the same farmhouse, though we no longer have to kick the fridge door since it's updated to a nice, black fridge in an old farm kitchen. A neighbor came drunkenly into the back yard, sitting around our fire, grunting, and randomly spouting off numbers. We eventually were able to convince him to go home once he stated he had to pee; we decided it would be a better idea for him to go home and do that instead of against the house. I dragged myself up to Kayrin's childhood bedroom smelling of wood smoke, crawling into the space Hunny left me amid Kayrin's collection of dolls. I closed the door just right, hard enough to lock it but not so forceful as to shake the house.
We wake up in the afternoon, finding our wood-smoked clothing and traipsing up a mountain to peruse a graveyard for grandparents long ago past. We thanked Onyx's bigger engine for dealing with the mountains of Shamokin; Kermit certainly couldn't have done it. Hunny applauds my ability to navigate through tight streets, and I applaud Hunny's capability for finding her grandparents, as I always have such an issue finding mine.
Finally going through the mountains to head to Knoeble's, we listen to rap music and talk about the men in our lives. We talk about how we're irritated with people, and how she knows where to put Monopoly pieces in my new car. We smoke cigarettes and fight with our hair, and then join the long line of cars pouring into the lot. After executing an amazing reverse job, we meet up with friends briefly only to disperse once again in the hunt for fried vegetables and cheese on a stick. We actually check out the craft fair this year, buying syrup that's the consistency of honey but tastes like molasses. I find homemade dips for bread in the flavor of bruschetta, and Hunny comments that women still want to talk to me despite their aching feet. We found a man who takes pictures of letters found in nature, and I mused which word to make a statement in my living room. Between needing a picture of a traffic light, Hunny and I finally decided which word would be the best option and had the man make it into frames.
Beer cans, a dartboard, and a martini glass. Naturally, Hunny finds it ENJOYable.
After depositing our finds, we wrapped fleeces around our hips and sauntered back into the park for prize-winning pizza and a Mountain Dew already gotten by a friend. Kayrin initiated our newest addition into the Haunted Mansion while we sat on rocks, smoked, and shook our heads a lot. We arranged ourselves into typical picture-taking formations, picking up Bluejay and placing her on various stationary objects for better pictures. We rode wooden roller coasters too cold and too fast to the point I was crying, then Otter Bucket treated us to photos for our fridges in our respective homes. I drove an antique car with a total of five women in it, surrounded by screams and collaring one man because he was too close to my personal space. The merry-go-round granted me another metal ring to hold my keys together. We piled back into our cars, driving back over mountains and screaming a bit on the curves. We came home to a fire, where there was burning candles and cups of Dew, pepperoni slices and various bags of cheese. There's talk of drinking, but my knees are too cold, and too many painkillers would make me collapse. I plan on making a few s'mores, smoking some cigarettes, and letting the fire calm the city-frazzled nerves I've developed.
There has been talk of my flying into Harrisburg next year for this event, along with the other gatherings that will happen throughout the year. I have started calculating in my head how much money I should be saving for all of these plane trips. The adventure that will unfold next year is at the front of my mind, but with the smoke and the friendship, maybe I can ignore what is destined to come. I can leave Baltimore for two nights and relive my college years, albeit less alcohol and more painkillers. I can share a bed with Hunny like we used to do four years ago before she had a new boyfriend and I wasn't "dating" a man. We can all forget what our city lives have brought us, sharing some stories, but mostly reminiscing about what we did four, five, seven years ago while staying at this farmhouse. I can go weaving through the mountains in my new car since I couldn't with Kermit. I can eventually go back to my city, and deal with my job, my men, my bar. But tonight is for the smoke, with the porch lights off and smog-less star-filled sky. I am now the only one without cell phone reception; everyone else's phones are "smarter" than mine and can pick up this cool new thing called "wi fi." For two nights, I have these women, these memories, stars, smoke, and a fire...
... I wouldn't have it any other way.