Dads and lads

I sit here staring into the embers of the fire. Two of my neighbours share in my reverie. The coals glow red and orange, warming us as a chilly breeze cools our necks. Our tents have been pitched for a couple of hours now and the camp is magnificent. Spoilt only by the beer bottles which lie empty on the ground, abandoned and forlorn!



Our sons chase each other around and around the tents, tripping over guy ropes. Spontaneous bouts of wrestling are fiercely contested and quickly over as tears are spilt. Followed seconds later by laughter, grunting, and more tears! Boys!


Their mothers are not so far away but we hope happy in slumber. Toothbrushes, shoes, soap, and warm clothes have been abandoned. Instead dads rules have been implemented and will be strictly applied to our camp site. Very simply, anything girly and clean will be overlooked in favour of good old dirt and slovenly ways. The way boys are meant to be!


The braai is long over. Marshmallows and Marie biscuits have been toasted to cinders. The laughter has been replaced with tiredness. The call to bed is fiercely contended by the youngsters. Loud words are spoken and the tents slowly fill with deep breathing sons. The youngest continues to fight hard but soon succumbs to the allures of sleep. Another day ends, all in preparation for the day to come.


The three old ones talk long into the night. Deep thoughts and life philosophies. Magic moments shared. Soon conversation slows as sleep calls us too. Wearily we head off to our beds. I wonder why I am so blessed. To be able to share life with good friends and neighbours.


And soon I too am fast asleep, on a mattress in a tent, in my neighbours back garden!