“We need to get more logs for the pit,” my boyfriend’s dad said to him as we made our way back to camp. “We can get some before dinner.”
It was then I noticed the brick-and-stone fire pit in the camp. It looked like the bottom of a chimney that had been sliced open, but then again, I hadn’t gone camping since high school (and even then I would use the term “camping” very loosely) so I had no idea what a fire pit was supposed to look like. I noticed, too, the four adirondack chairs located in front of the pit, evenly spread out. I smiled to myself at the thought of sitting in front of the fire later that night, then shivered as the chilly breeze ran through my hair, lifting it off my shoulders ever so slightly.