Table Camping

By Doug Forbes

Grief takes you to places you’ve never been. Dark, lonely corridors where you’re forced to face-off against the worst of your demons. And sometimes they win.

Grief also takes you to places where you wish you were again. And again. And again. One of those places was under a table on a chilly winter’s night right here in Pasadena.

It started with igniting some dry oak in our fireplace. I can still hear the crackling, feel the heat on my fingertips. Rox loved how it made her face glow. She was also stoked about how the earthy odor permeated the house. Like living in the woods.

So, we rolled with that idea. We threw some pillows and blankets under the dining room table. Then we tossed a big blanket over the top and sides so we had our makeshift tent. Snacks, water bottle and some special friends were next.

And finally, campfire songs followed by quiet observations—how does fire work?. But the crème de la crème—roasting marshmallows! Sticky lips are more fun to kiss.

This was table camping. And what I would not give to relive that night with that girl.

This winter, I will light a fire, build that same tent under that same table and get those same furry fake friends to join. I will sing the same campfire songs and roast the same kind of marshmallows. But it will never be the same without the most beautiful girl in the world to smile back.

Nonetheless, I hope you will try it. And although our experience won’t ever live up to that night one year ago, perhaps yours will be one to cherish for a lifetime.