My dad read my brother and I The Hobbit on a camping trip.

The flickering light of the campfire set the mood perfectly. He had fun doing the different voices, giving homage to the lyrical whimsy in the prose, when it surfaced.

My mom gave us mugs of hot apple cider as we listened to this charming adventure, one dotted with terrors made all the more real by the surrounding dark, and the night sounds of nature.

It become a thing; each trip he'd read another part until we got through The Lord of the Rings.

A lovely memory that my brother and I will always treasure.