Safari

The safari was amazing. I don't think I can really describe it. So I'll just resort to photos.

 

Inevitably, my parents drew plenty of dating analogies from the safari patterns. "See, those bachelor impalas are so pitifully hanging out together because the females are all snatched up by more aggressive males." Casey's answer? They just need to hit the gym even more.

The bad animal jokes didn't end there. We came up with a lot of really lame why-did-the-(animal)-cross-the-road jokes. We made up names for animals whose bodies we mashed together in our heads. Like giraffant. Or antebra (sounds like a 70s feminist initiative to me).

In order to keep it PG, I won't repeat what was said when the lions were mating. Parents can be so embarrassing sometimes. We told the kids that "action" meant preparing for hunting . . . with sound effects.

When I'm standing up in the moving van, with my arms dangling out of the roof and the wind whipping my hair into a frenzied mess, I think that this is what we're made for. To anxiously look for a creature tucked away in a bush that you might have used as an emergency bathroom. To admire the sleek coats, the cracked hides, the colored ruffles. To marvel at the stripes and spots. And to wonder how you fit into this whole Lion King episode.

It's funny, but I felt so alive and aware of who I was among these beaks, horns, and tails than I did near the arms and legs in the cities. I wonder if I would ever feel the same way again. I just have to go back.