Story Time?

There was once a time when I was much younger while I was camping in Florida I encountered a group of “Rainbows” or rather a very happy group of hippies. At the time my family and their group was set up at opposite ends of the campsite. Their youngest daughter, who was around my age, found me one day washing clothes in the lake. She talked to me the entire time I was washing and in the end she invited me to come to her tent that night. I was about seven at this time so of course I asked for permission. My mother and stepfather decided they would accompany me. When my new ‘friend’ came around to collect me she was happy that my parents would be coming as well, saying that her father and stepmother had told her to invite them as well. That night we all sat on the ground around the rainbows’ campfire and ate

an unmemorable food. After everyone had finished the main guy, my friend’s father, lit several cigarette looking things and passed them around. When the things came to my stepfather he took a long puff and handed it to my mother who looked rather displeased. I noticed that my friend also looked displeased. She explained to me that they were smoking weed and she was always made to smoke it too. My mother had explained what weed was to me when I was younger so I knew that it wasn't legal. I asked my friend’s father why they smoked and he said it connected them with nature and the gods that they believed in, but that if I didn't want to smoke I didn't have to. Of course, I didn't, but I was confused as to why his daughter was forced to smoke while I wasn't. I knew that my family and her family was completely different just by the way they dressed but now I knew how different they truly were. These people believed that becoming high connected them with gods and the nature that surrounded them, they didn't wear clothes they wore things such as vines and leaves weaved together, somehow it seemed to magically cover everything essential,  and everything about them seemed completely different from my life. My mother, stepfather, and I sat silently completely clothed with shoes while the others sat half-dressed singing slow happy songs. The people I sat with that night were from a different culture and it made me realize that not everyone is the same, and that might not be such a bad thing.