Some of my earliest childhood memories include chilly, evening campfires with my family. My dad would build a fire and we'd lay our blankets/sleeping bags on the ground and nestle in. Mom would place hotdogs on our freshly made hotdog sticks, compliments of dad, and we'd hold them over the fire- or in my case, in the fire. I figured it would cook faster and who cares if half of my hotdog was covered in ash? Back then, I had no qualms getting my fingers sticky and gooey with roasted marshmallows or covering my face in ketchup with each bite of my ashy hotdog.
Fast forward 25+ years and you'll find us still enjoying our family campfires. You could say it's become a tradition- one that my father started and one that I'm so thankful for. It's a time for us to enjoy each others company and share countless stories that never seem to grow old. It's bonding. It's nostalgic. It's family. The weather is perfect right now- I feel a campfire coming on.
Here's a few photos of campfires past- sticky faces and all.
Kenji in one of dad's old sweatshirts- not sure what he's doing.
They trusted me to spear my own marshmallows... awesome.
What a sticky mess!
Fast forward 25+ years and you'll find us still enjoying our family campfires. You could say it's become a tradition- one that my father started and one that I'm so thankful for. It's a time for us to enjoy each others company and share countless stories that never seem to grow old. It's bonding. It's nostalgic. It's family. The weather is perfect right now- I feel a campfire coming on.
Here's a few photos of campfires past- sticky faces and all.
Kenji in one of dad's old sweatshirts- not sure what he's doing.
They trusted me to spear my own marshmallows... awesome.
What a sticky mess!
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