First Campfire Night example essay topic

Everyone remembers the cool autumn nights snuggled around a campfire with his or her families. Others may have experienced their first campfires with a Boy Scout or Girl Scout troop. My first encounter was with my friends, the summer after we turned ten years old. Tori, my best friend since I was 5, was the "leader" of our little posse. She was a skinny little kid whose legs went on forever, long, bleach-blonde hair, and a line of freckles splattered across the bridge of her button nose.

She and I spent just about everyday together. We were riding bikes up and down the street, playing with our Barbies, or watching movies all night long. She and her brother Barry, whom looked exactly like her but more tall, lived next door to me. Michael, Barry's best friend, lived the street behind our house.

He was a little shyer than the rest of us. I think that was because he went to an all boy's school and none of his friends from school lived near by. In the rear of my house was a wooded area that ran between the lots. The neighbor kids and I built a fort up in the tall pine trees. We would spend hours sitting up on the old wooden planks, that were balanced between two sturdy limbs, eating crackers with cheese, drinking juice boxes, and pretending to be super heroes. I think for a short period of time we even pretended to be black panthers at the zoo, while Tori was our trainer.

Below us the ground was blanketed with soft pine needles that never really did the job when it came to absorbing mud. I can still hear my father yelling at me for tracking mud through the house in search of more cheese. This was all fun and games during the day, but what was it like at night? We spent at least two full weeks petitioning our parents for their permission to camp out in our fort and have a campfire. Each and every time they looked at us, smiled, and politely declined. We couldn't understand that it was against city ordinance to have a campfire.

We didn't even really care. We were kids, it was what we wanted and we were determined to have our way. A week into the pleading we were given the go-ahead on staying the night in our fort. Being ten-year-olds we heard this as an okay to everything, fire included. The next few days we spent gathering our supplies. These included more saltine crackers and cheddar cheese slices than one could imagine; fat, white marshmallows; hotdogs (kids eat them cold all the time), wavy chips, juice boxes filled with fruit punch, flashlights, pillows, blankets, and our stash of matches that we hoped our parents would not notice.

To us, this was serious business. The night we chose was perfect. It was late August and the moon was full. The air smelled fresh and healthy. Birds flew over our head, looking for their nests, ready to settle down for the night. Dusk had just set and we were anxious to get our parents out of there so we could explore our fire curiosities.

Once they were finally assured that we would be fine spending the night only 20 yards from the house, they left. The night was ours. Being the smart kids we were, we knew it wouldn't be such a brilliant idea to start the fire before our parents went to bed, so we decided to lie out our blankets and pillows, and began to relax. The giggling continued for what seemed like all night and then we noticed that at last the adults had gone to bed. The four of us sat there in the pitch darkness wondering what to do next. Tori gathered all the logs into a pile and I struck a match.

The head of it burst to life, burnt the tip of my finger and went out as quickly as it had come to life. Frustrated, I struck another. This time I dropped it when it burnt me. Knowing this cycle would continue, she grabbed the matches, lit one and threw it on the logs. Nothing happened.

We tossed some dried grass and pine needles in and tried again. A small flame burned below the pile. Slowly we added more grass until we had a fairly decent fire burning. Once the excitement died down we all became silent. I became hypnotized and transfixed at the reds, yellows, and oranges that swirled around me in a cloud of warmth. Snake-like hisses swelled up from below and crackling logs filled my ears with sounds like Pop Rocks.

My lungs overflowed with balmy, smoke engulfed air. The night sky was pitch black except for the various clusters of stars and the hazy glow of the moon. My senses had been triggered, one by one, and I was experiencing the campfire to its fullest. My eyes glazed over and I struggled to pull away. I could not force myself to look anywhere but at the base of the logs. It had captured my attention like nothing ever had.

No cartoon or toy captivated me the way the cherry red embers could. The tip of the flame danced with blue and orange fairies. They leapt from tip to tip with such delicacy. The bark on the logs turned from chocolate to charred chunks of wood. The hissing and popping noises came from the wet pine needles we had used to start the fire. The smoke rose above us like the Milky Way.

The gray smoke was speckled with red planets, spinning about as they flew higher into the sky before disappearing into the vastness. What seemed like hours passed and no one said a word. I had gathered that my friends had experienced the fire, not exactly like me because everyone has a different view on each experience they encounter, but in such a way that left them speechless as well. I think we all knew that we were dealing with something powerful here. The rest of the evening no one really said too much. We sat around, cooked our hotdogs and marshmallows over the searing fire, and Tori and I gossiped about the cute boys in our class and whom we thought had the best new Barbie.

Michael and Barry discussed videogames and sports. We didn't want to ruin the fun, for we knew, come morning when our parents found out, we were in for a punishment. I doubt any of us cared. This had been the greatest evening of my life (up to that point) and no yelling or spanking could varnish that memory. I have had several other campfire memories since that night, but the first is always the most memorable.

Occasionally those same friends (and we include our families from time to time) get together in the back yard and have a campfire. I really enjoy the times when we all get together and talk for hours around the burning embers. Although, lately our talks have grown away from school and toys and more towards our future. Our last campfire consisted of reflecting on childhood memories such as our first campfire before we all headed in our separate ways in college. I never really understood why a fire could amaze me like it does.

Maybe it is the blanket of warmth that shields your body from the crisp night air, or the thought that we have some control over one of the world's most uncontrollable elements. Whatever the reason may be, I know that sitting beside a campfire with whoever may be next to me is so relaxing that it is beyond my power to explain how good it makes me feel. It is one of those things that do not need to be explained, the happy memories are written all over my face.