My parents made sure that I was frequently able to enjoy the outdoors starting from as young as I can remember. As Texas State Alumni, one of my mom and dad’s favorite places to take my brother and I was Texas State’s University Camp. I have many fond early childhood memories of camping along the Blanco, with family and friends. My love for the outdoors was born somewhere in a tent alongside the river. I could write about the time my mom broke her ankle in the river in the middle of the night on my brother's 8th birthday (that was a long night), or about unsuccessfully (thank goodness) attempting to catch water snakes but I won’t. I’m going to be writing about one of my earliest and clearest memories of the great outdoors, one of my favorite memories of my life to this day.
I was around the age of eleven, and my family decided that we were going camping early May at University Camp. I can hear my dad reminding me that the months of April and October are always the best times to camp in Texas. We went with our neighbor Allen who we shared a duplex with until I turned six. Allen was like a second father for those few years of my life that he lived next door. The weather was perfect, warm enough to not get too cold after swimming during the days but cool enough to put a flannel on by the fire during the nights. One of my most vivid memories to this day is when we decided to spend our last day floating down the river and soaking up all the last bits of sunshine that we could. I can vividly recall the mangoes that Allen brought for the float, and how perfectly ripe they were. We were floating, talking, and simply spending time taking in the moment. It was so peaceful that day. The only sound around us was our own voices and the slight rustling of the trees from the gentle breeze. As we slowly made our way down the river, my dad recommended that we take a moment of silence, and just listen to our surroundings. As we listened, we were able to hear a bubbling from over near the bank of the river. What could this be? I pondered. We emerged from the river alongside the bank and made our way onto the luscious field of clovers. I crave that feeling to this day, the feeling of the soft and all-knowing earth under my feet. I find chasing this craving has only led to good things. We found the source of the mysterious bubbling sound and my dad moved aside the fresh clovers and lush greenery to reveal the spring. To my surprise, the spring bubbled up to about half a foot tall. Pure, fresh water straight from the ground. Eleven-year-old me was amazed. I remember thinking that it really was possible to just live off the land, and I dreamed that one day I could. We all took turns drinking from the spring. When I texted my dad the other day to see if he remembered the moment as I did, he responded with “that was the best drink of water I ever had.” After we all admired the natural, clean water fountain, we got back in our tubes and continued our way down the river. We eventually got out and made our way back to the campsite to make dinner and hang out by the fire. I excitedly told my mom and the others about what we encountered on our float so that the next day I could take everyone else there.
I’m not sure if the spring is still findable to this day, it’s been awhile since I’ve been to U-Camp. But I will never forget that memory and the way that day made me feel. Every time I think about it, I get a warm feeling. I’m so grateful that my family was able to imprint their love of the outdoors onto me because nature is the most powerful healing and grounding resource that we have. I can’t wait to experience these kinds of memories with my own kids one day, to just be able to show others how much love comes from taking a moment to appreciate the little things, such as a cold drink from a spring on a hot summer day.
Mb's Words & Writes 