When our family was younger, we loved visiting Cade’s Cove and took every opportunity to go there.

One summer we decided to go camping. The cove has a wonderful campground. Stream running nearby and a little store if you forgot something. Now mind you, we are not the camping type. Our budget was a little tight so we had no tent. We had blankets, sleeping bags, food and the assurance of the Knoxville weathermen that the night was going to be clear with absolutely no rain.

Five of us loaded into our van (my stepson was also along) and we headed to Cade’s Cove. We paid for our spot, pulled out all of our chairs and a small table. There were some flashes of embarrassment as all around us people were putting up their tents. Small tents, big compartmentalized tents, tents with porches, the works. We hauled out our cooler and had a wonderful dinner made all the better because it was outdoors under the trees. We sat by the fire and ate s’mores as the stars came out and the insects trilled, chirped, and buzzed around our heads, attracted by the flickering light.

It grew later and we staked out our individual spots in our camp site. My son, Tommy, claimed the picnic table, but wasn’t quite ready to go to sleep yet. He pulled out his deck of cards and began playing solitaire.

Meanwhile, I was having a hard time getting comfortable. Rocks became boulders, even through a foam pad. I finally gave up and headed for the van, bequeathing my mattress and sleeping bag to someone else in the family. About this time the stars began to disappear. I leaned the seat back and tried to sleep. Sleeping in a mini-van seat isn’t the greatest, either.

A couple of other family members dragged to the van, experiencing the same issues that had ended my outdoor experience.

Tommy continued to play solitaire on the table by the light of a lantern. Suddenly he realized he wasn’t alone. Peering at him over the opposite edge of the table was a fully grown raccoon. Tommy slid away a little and froze, waiting for the curious animal to make sure there was no food. After a few minutes it calmly slipped back into the woods. Tommy put away the cards and curled up in his sleeping bag that he had stretched out on the table. The raccoon returned, but found even less to interest him this time.

What little sleep Tommy got was interrupted by a rainstorm that wasn’t supposed to happen. The night ended with everyone crowded in the van, thunder rattling the windows, wind whipping the branches, rain and twigs beating on the roof. We never tried the family camping experience again, except in a cabin, and never had to worry about raccoons playing cards again, either.

Susan Kite is a member of Author’s Guild of Tennessee, and the author of five published books and contributor to several anthologies. https://www.amazon.com/default/e/B00J91G0ZU/