It’s 3:12 AM. My hammock is hanging next to our creek, and I can hear the steady, splashing sound of the waterfall. I can see the light in the cabin where the boys are going to bed and hear their voices, but not make out what they’re saying. The light flicks off, but they continue to talk quietly.
The peep frogs peep in the pond. Crickets chirp. The moon is just strong enough for me to see the outline of the trees above me against the paler night sky, but not much else.
There have been at least two interpersonal conflicts tonight. There was an interesting visit to Waffle House, and even now, there’s a Jeep stuck deep in a ravine up by the power lines, that no amount of elbow grease from our weird little crew could compel to budge. Quite a lot has happened since my mom said “Don’t do anything stupid,” and went to bed.
But on Wednesday one of us is moving, and we probably won’t see him for a long time, so now is the time to be cramming eight people into a vehicle made for five, and plowing through overgrown clear cut on street tires, and standing out by the hammocks talking about I don’t even remember until stupid times.
With “goodnight” still in my ears from the ones in the other hammocks and the ones in the cabin, I remember hearing Taps played years ago at camp, and the words we sang as we went to sleep, knowing that the next day would be another one packed with activity and full of memories.
Day is done, gone the sun;
From the lake, from the hill, from the sky.
All is well, safely rest;
God is nigh.
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