The Hidden Warmth

Angela Stansbery

Professor Severino

Travel Writing

October 15, 2018

The Hidden Warmth

The bitter chill of the wind blows my hair from my neck. It forces me to wrap my arms around myself as I shiver violently. I hate the cold and the fact that this is what surrounds me now makes me immediately regret this trip. What makes it worse is we are only a half an hour from our house in O’Fallon Missouri. We are carrying this painful burden when we could be in our own warm beds only a half an hour away.

Nevertheless, my mother dragged my girl scout troop out into the elements for a weekend of camping, or as close to camping as a group of ten-year-old girls is willing to get. We’re staying in a cabin and have indoor bathrooms.  It’s a loose definition of camping.

The first night draws over us. For a while we are warm, close to the big opening bonfire. Marshmallows are roasted, camp songs are sung and swaps are swapped. It is a great time but the fire that warms my skin is by far the best part of all. When the hours draw later the festivities die down and the camp leaders send us off to our cabins for the night. We walk in one large cluster along the path just outside the woods, eager to get inside as soon as possible.

“Girls, stop,” one of the camp leaders says in front of us.

We all stop suddenly, some of us bumping into those ahead, too distracted with our elementary school dramas to be paying close enough attention to our surroundings. I grumble loudly to show my annoyance with the extended time in the chilly weather, my mom putting her hand on my shoulder to quiet me down.

“I know you all want to get to your warm cabin,” I nod with extreme exasperation, “But I thought I’d show you something cool first.”

Despite our numb fingers our faces warm with looks of excitement and curiosity.

“Turn off all your flashlights and turn your attention to the grass just inside the woods. If you’re lucky enough you should be able to see small frog eyes glinting brightly.”

Our group breaks out with excited chatter as we do what we’re told, flicking off our flashlights and kneeling so that we can investigate the grass.

With the sudden lack of light, we are plunged into immediate darkness that makes an entirely new kind of chill run down my spine. I lean forward on my toes and strain my eyes as I stare into the dark. It’s a weird feeling, staring eagerly into a large area of complete black, nothingness. Needless to say, I wasn’t seeing anything.

This trip couldn’t get any worse.

“Angela, look here,” my mom says with a gentle point of here finger.

I follow the gesture to a spot in the grass and everything transforms in front of me. Two small lights blink up at me. It’s a simplistic beauty that makes my heart race. I laugh giddily, slapping my hand over my mouth as to not scare the creature away. Upon seeing the first set of eyes, everything seems to transform around me.

Dozens of little lights begin to shine through the night. I marvel at the simple beauty, each pair of eyes like small stars shining in the sky. My mom looks down at me with a smile, her eyes shining with the same imagination that seems to course through my veins. I just stay there, balancing low on my toes, staring in at all the little frogs, purely amazed to capture them in their habitat.

Not only could I now see the little glowing eyes, but everything in this moment seems to crystallize. I can smell the leftover smoke from our bonfire gliding through the air, something which tickles my nose. It’s a smell that I love, the thought of smore’s always giving it a good connotation. I smell the pinecones that dot the ground around us, something which forces me to stare at my feet as I walk so I don’t twist an ankle. I feel the soft cloth of my three pairs of socks tickling my toes as they bunch up at the end of my shoes.

I love it all, every last detail of this moment. I love how something so simple as finding glowing frog eyes in the dark can open my heart to things initially unpleasant.

The greatest part of all though, was I completely forgot that I was even cold.