We ate, we laughed, we walked, we strolled, we kicked sand, we created memories.
I’ve wanted to have a campfire on the beach for a long time. There’s something nostalgic about fires, sticks and s’mores. Maybe it’s the sound of the ocean. Maybe it’s the smoke-marinated clothes. Maybe it’s the common bond of sitting around an open flame, sometimes silently. I think it’s a mix of all 3. Actually for me, there’s another factor……my sons.
For some reason, building a campfire on the beach is something that I want my boys to remember. I want them to remember the long walk from the hotel to the beach, toting the wood, skewers and other supplies. I want them to remember finding the perfect spot to gather. I want them to remember crumpling up the paper, carefully placing the kindling and clicking the lighter. I want them to remember the anticipation of dad finally opening the bag of marshmallows. I want them to remember my hand on theirs as we gently, tactically toast up that perfect, toasty ball of sugar. Lastly, I want them to remember the love shared.
There’s so many more “campfire” moments that I hope to share with my sons. I didn’t learn a lot of “manly stuff” growing up, but I’m figuring it out as I go.
The actual “stuff” that I teach them isn’t what’s most important. Love should be the fuel behind every memory. Them sensing that love is what’s most important.
Someday, I hope to see them creating loving memories with their own families. Maybe they’ll have their own “campfire” moments. As long as love motivates them, even the simplest of times will ignite memories for generations.