Avi's First Night Under the Stars
The tent was lopsided. The sleeping bag smelled like basement. And something was making a noise in the bushes that was definitely, absolutely, 100% a bear. Avi had never been camping before, and so far, it was not going well.
"That's a raccoon," Dad said, not even looking up from the campfire he was trying to start. "Bears don't rustle. They stomp." This was not as comforting as Dad seemed to think it was.
But then the fire caught, and everything changed. The flames danced like tiny orange acrobats, sending sparks spiraling into the purple sky. Dad put a marshmallow on a stick and handed it to Avi. "The secret is patience. Low and slow, not directly in the flame."
Avi burned the first three marshmallows to charcoal. The fourth was perfect — golden brown, gooey in the middle, sandwiched between graham crackers and chocolate. The best thing Avi had ever tasted.
As the fire died down to embers, the stars appeared. Not the pale, distant stars Avi saw from the backyard — these were thick and bright and impossibly numerous, splashed across the sky like someone had kicked over a bucket of diamonds.
"Dad?" Avi whispered. "Yeah?" "How many stars are there?" "More than anyone can count." They lay on their backs in the dewy grass, pointing out constellations — Orion's belt, the Big Dipper, and one Dad made up called "The Marshmallow" that definitely wasn't real but Avi decided to believe in anyway.
The raccoon came back. It sat at the edge of the firelight, watching them with curious eyes. Avi tossed it a piece of graham cracker. "Welcome to camp," they whispered. And for the first time all night, Avi wasn't scared. They were exactly where they were supposed to be.