As I child, we went to Hermit Island. I remember the feeling driving across the sandbar, scared to death that the ocean would suddenly rise and swallow us whole. Then sitting in the car in the stifling heat waiting for my dad to check us in at the ranger station. Looking at the map to find our campsite and trying to give directions...always mindful of how close we were to the showers and the arcade games while we drove. Then the first night...the crackling of the fire, picking a stick to roast hot dogs, burning marshmallows on purpose, lying in the tent jealous that the adults were still awake. The week was always a blur which ended on the last day with the lobster bake on the campfire. The ride home seemed to take forever...passed out in the back seat sun cooked and content.
As a teen, we went to Old Orchard Beach. My first vacations without my family were spent with high school friends. Packing more beer than food we forgot more memories than we remembered, but those were filled with laughter and will stay with my forever.
As an adult, Maine has become the preferred destination for day trips to outlets, rambling up the coast to take photos and summer concerts in Freeport. Maybe an occasional weekend in Portland, but for the most part, my days in the vacation state were behind me. Or so I thought.
This weekend, for the first time in close to three decades, I packed my bags to head to a campground in the vacation state. Unlike my childhood or even teen years however, this time there will be no latern fueled by kerosene, no sleeping on the ground and no slimy shower floors with ice cold water. I have joined the middle age generation...sleeping in a bed, in a camper...with electricity, running water and a microwave at my disposal.
There will be no hot dogs on sticks, no sweaty tent sleeping, and no sparklers...but there will be campfires, laughter and newly formed memories with good friends.
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