It is strange at our camp.
One of the natives is gone... Yes, we know where he is, but he is still gone. Off to other camps and brand new adventures. While he has his communication devices with him, we have been strongly encouraged not to attempt contact by the authorities he is with. That is hard. I want to hear his voice, to hear how his first time in the flying contraption went, to know he is safe and good. Alas, I am at a loss.
He will return from his far off camp and immediately head to another camp - this one not as far off, and the male companion of mine will be with him, though that doesn't help my attachment to this native. Or the male companion.
These natives have stolen my heart and soul.
The native population has grown, though most of them do not inhabit our camp. It is still an odd pulling at the soul. The older native has a spouse - and a daughter and a son. The second oldest native will very soon have a spouse - and consequently and eventually there will be more grand natives. Our numbers have increased, and will continue to do so. As has our worry for those who are now in our lives. It is an odd feeling. The celebration time that is upon us is pressing and stressful. There are bits of shells and fluff to outlay, attire to be purchased, plans to be made, organization to be done. It is very surreal. And yet, it will be over soon. And the oldest female native will have taken her mate in a glorious ceremony. That man and I have vowed to enjoy this time as much as we can.
We are left with the youngest female one at the moment. She does not like that man and I. At least that is how we feel when faced with her dismissal and dismay of us. We have been through this with the other natives - the eye rolling and the utter disgust at our habits and speech patterns. Still, though she believes I am dumber than a box of rocks, I am under her power. She has stolen my soul. She is bright, funny, and one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever encountered. She makes me laugh and alternately, makes me cry. She is growing and blossoming and becoming her own person. I do enjoy the journey, at times, but I am sad because I know there will be a time when she no longer feels the need to talk to me, to shock me, to fight with me.
Camp is quiet. Too quiet.
We have returned from our alternate camp after several days of relaxation, fun, games, fishing, good eating, and sleep. I do not think I am alone in wishing we could go back. Waking next to running water, with coffee ready and pleasant company is desirable to me. Much more desirable than the drudgery of day-to-day life. How I wish I could be at our camp for all days, but for the time being, it isn't possible if the natives want to continue to fill their bellies. The shells and bits of fluffy stuff I earn while trading for my services keep them healthy.
I look back on years past with envy and nostalgia... I miss the early days. I miss the constant chaos and insanity. I know that brings questions of my sanity into the forefront, but I cannot help it. I long for times when those natives and I can hang out all day.
Also, I long for a brief camp with the man that does this with me. We have not had that for a very, very long time, and I am hoping being hope that we can find a night or two during this season for some much needed alone time. Maybe after the ceremonies... I can only wish...
Alas... I am an old sap.
These Summer Survival Entries will eventually come to an end, I fear. Though I hope not for several more years....
This is the summer of nostalgia, I think...