The New Dream: Beneath the Stars

Once a dream comes true, it's time to find a new one, right?

My next great dream was to go camping. The idea of being outside and sleeping under the stars seemed like the ultimate adventure to me.

Although the campers I saw on TV had advanced equipment — lanterns, cooking stoves, perfectly pitched tents — sleeping outside didn't seem very fancy at all. We don't need much to make this one happen, do we?

Brimming with excitement ran to my dad.

"Dad, dad, daaaad, let's go camping!!"

That’s when I learned that camping safely isn’t quite as simple as it seems. My dad, never one to sugarcoat things, shared stories of his own rugged camping experiences in the military — tales that sounded more like survival than adventure.

The dream had to wait. Equipment was needed. Time, too. I thought to myself, "Yes, no problem, we can put it off for a few weeks - or months, or maybe years."

Then one day, while playing in our backyard, I stumbled upon a yellow, plastic-like structure. Curious, I asked my dad what it was. “An old tent,” he said. A part of the puzzle had been hiding in plain sight all along.

I tried again. “Let’s go camping!”

Again, again, and again.

Until one day, my dad had an idea:

“We're going camping... right here in the backyard.”

Maybe it was my dad's way of saying yes to my idea once and for all.

It wasn't exactly the forest or mountaintop I had imagined, but it wasn't a bad idea at all. It was still incredibly exciting! Sleeping on the floor like the homo sapiens hidden in a tent that looked like a cave?! And we get to use a flashlight?! Say less!

With the help of our mom, my sister and I spread out blankets on the ground inside that old tent. My mom passed on the invitation (it was only a two-person tent), but my dad stayed. I know now that his back probably ached, and he surely didn’t sleep much. But he never said a word of complaint. He just stayed with us, under the stars, which we couldn't see. It didn't matter, we knew the stars lived in the sky.

Looking back, I realize how rare and beautiful that was. My dad chose discomfort just to be there, to make a memory. He's chosen discomfort so many times, too many to count, and I seldom recognized it as a child.

That night shaped me in quiet, lasting ways.

Later, when I’d see people carrying blankets on the street, trying to find shelter for the night, I’d remember our cold ground, our thin covers. It was an adventure for us — but for them, it was reality. That simple night gave me a deeper kind of understanding: empathy.

Now that I think about it, had we not camped in our backyard, we would have probably never done it.

Years later, the dream evolved.

When my dad came to visit me in Florida, it was finally my turn to give him a real camping experience.

My American Family graciously let us borrow their camping gear, and we had way more than we needed. We went from sleeping on the floor to..... sleeping in cots! With real pillows and comfy blankets! We packed up my tiny car to the brim and drove to Ginnie Springs, in west Florida.

We arrived on a Friday evening and immediately scavenged for sticks instead of buying firewood. We ran into some huge spiders while doing so, but not to worry, no one died.

We then set up the hammock, inflated the float, set up the tent, cots, and placed the mountains of bedding inside the tent. While we did so, our neighbor campers got into a fistfight. I freaked out, but my dad assured me we were ok. They were just drunk. I've always admired how my dad knows how to handle every "dangerous" situation with calm, quiet wisdom.

Then came the reward: we floated down the lazy river together, snapped a photo courtesy of a kind stranger, grilled hamburgers under the stars (we could see them this time around!), laughed, sang, and watched the sky through the swaying trees. The squirrels ate the leftover buns the next morning. It was everything I had dreamed of and more.

The lesson?

Sometimes, the version of the dream that comes true isn’t the one you first imagined — but it can turn out better, richer, and more beautiful.

Camping in our backyard will always be my favorite camping memory.