Saturday - Day 69 - "My" Campground

I had a feeling of responsibility to my campground today.  It came over me in a wave, and I can not understand why I did not feel it much sooner.

As soon as the sun invited itself onto my day, I took a drive along the beach.  I needed an excuse to get out and it was a great way to enjoy the beach air after all the rain we had.

I promised James we would make a Dunkin Donuts stop, only because he was well behaved during the day.  The sun in my day brighten after I peeked at my receipt and discovered all my drinks were 50% off.   I asked the girl at the counter, who helped me, if there was a special promotion.  I had no idea Dunkin Donuts had a 2-4pm happy hour, an accurate description, as my hour had just become happier.

Little did I know the small Vanilla Bean, James was enjoying so much, would find its way all over the Jeep floor. But, before my faith was sealed, we hit the grocery store, a place I find myself frequenting often.

As we jumped into the Jeep, James realized what was left of his drink was melted, I soon realized his cup was not secured in the cup holder and as I hit the brakes, his drink toppled everywhere.  The fact that the drink only cost a dollar did not make situation any better.

I was very upset with James until I considered maybe it was not his fault, although I am still unsure if he helped things along by kicking his cup.  I pulled over to manage the mess and it was a massive mess.  Large   cookie crumbs from Ty mashed with Vanilla Bean drink, sticky and gooey.

When we finally pulled into our camping spot I saw another huge mess; between the rain, tree debris and all our outdoor stuff, our camping site had become an eye sore.

I cleaned and vacuumed the Jeep, pulled out the floor mats and washed them.  On a whim, I washed and cleaned the vacuum and it's filter, hoping the hose would get better suction. No such luck.

I cleaned the outside of our campsite.  I gathered all the wet, heavy towels and bathing suits.   I swept our faux grass carpet.  I picked up all the dead palm branches and made a pile for our maintenance guy.  I had a nagging feeling I really needed to do laundry, mainly to wash the wet towels, but also for Ty's lovey who was a casualty of the vanilla bean car explosion.

I scrounged for laundry money.  I used the five John statically left for me under a floor mat, it was for tolls to pick him up at the airport on Friday.  Thanks John!  I felt it was a laundry emergency; a clean lovey is a happy lovey.

I realized when I was finally done it all looked so much better and I felt good.  I was most happy we didn't look like trailer trash anymore, but I also had huge satisfaction washing all the wet towels.  However, I would have to admit, making a pile of fallen palm branches was what made the task gratifying.  It really was not about cleaning, it was more about making sure our site was presentable to anyone who walked by.

Post clean up.
(Wish I'd taken a before photo.)

My proud pile of Palm!
(each neighbor had their own pile)

I found myself apologizing to two young boys later that night as I gathered my dry laundry from the outside dryers.  My step-daughter, Haley, had come over to visit and the boys were playing with James at the playground, a few hours earlier.  The playground which was partially flooded from all the rain.

I asked the boys a few questions, specifically because Haley and I were making assumptions about their ages and where they were from.  We learned they were from Florida and that they were only camping for the weekend.  The older boy was surprisingly fifteen, and apparently not from The Jersey Shore.  The little one was closer to James age.  They were both very polite and interesting.

As we said good-bye, I found myself saying, "sorry the playground was flooded."  My sense of responsibility was very present.  The boys had no idea we lived at the campground, yet I felt connected to our surroundings.  They also had no idea our playground normally did not have a stream flowing through it.

A River Runs Through it. (the playground)

During this day, ‘the campground’ had transformed to ‘my campground’ and the boys were our visitors.  I’m sure I’ll never see them again, but the second I engaged in conversation, I had this quirky feeling I needed to be mindful and considerate to all our visitors this summer.

The boys waved as I drove by in the Jeep, my laundry piled in the rear.  I hoped they'd enjoy their stay at "my campground".