Camping with my papa

The other night I was lying in by comfy bed, daydreaming about my new truck, when an odor jerked me back to reality. The sweet aroma of freshly squeezed orange juice. It reminded me of the vacations I took with my papa to Florida. I will never forget the fresh smell of the air when we stepped out of the van upon our arrival at the campsite. The crisp, salty smell of the ocean and the soft, powdery feel of the white sand between your toes took away all the weariness of the long, boring ride. The first thing I would do is change into my bathing suit and run out to the beach. My brother and I would spend the day splashing in the salty water, until we were too tired to keep our heads above the water. Then we would lie under the umbrella and let the cool breeze sweep over us as we drifted off to sleep for a much needed nap. When we awoke, it felt so good to have the bright sun blazing down on me. My favorite thing to do was build gigantic sand castles on the beach. My papa and I would have contests to see who could build the tallest sand castle. The grains of sand glistened in the sun like diamonds. Our campsite was always close to an orange grove that backed up to the RV park. I will never forget how the gigantic orange trees towered over me. Every day my papa would pick me an orange; they were so juicy! Every time I think about an orange, my mouth waters, and I think of how sweet they taste and how sweet my papa was. In the mornings we would walk to this little breakfast place called The Breakfast Shack. I would usually get pancakes oozing with syrup, but sometimes I would live on the edge and get a waffle instead. No matter what, I would always have a tall glass of orange juice. For some reason it always tasted different in Florida. My mom told me it was because it was fresh squeezed. During the evenings, we all went to sit on