Summer camp

The station wagon rumbled down a gravel dirt road weaving through trees I longed to climb. My parents dropped me off with a bag, a pillow and their wishes for fun and new friends. Mosquitoes buzzed in my ears and a stream rushed somewhere past the archery range. My camp counselor was Katrina. This twenty something girl in jean shorts with poufy bangs held up by a veritable wall of hairspray. I thought she was fantastic. I got settled in my bunk, in the cabin by the mess hall. But the crickets called and frantic shouts from newly arrived campers drew me outside. Sun fell slanty through leaves and I wandered towards the canoes hoping we'd launch them from the small beach into the murky water. Fish jumped and I shook a little with this taste of freedom. I could imagine just wandering into the woods, living off the fruits of the forest and making a wild life for myself. I'd commune with wolves and swim naked in the ponds, catching fish with my bare hands.

Somewhere in the distance a bell rang, and jolted back to life I climbed the dirt path, up the hill to the grassy meeting place. Campers milled about, plastic nametags twisting, hands waving. We sat and played the name game and everyone said something interesting about theirself. I said that I could walk out my back door and touch a cow. I didn't make a lot of friends the first day.

We took long nature walks, swam in a pool of chlorine and did teamwork building exercises involving ropes and a lot of cheating. There was a set of twins who wore old, paint smattered art smocks and everyone loved them. They were tiny and sweet and had a way of getting out of trash duty every time it was their turn. I was on the edge of adolescence; the chubby, awkward edge of adolescence and found it difficult to fit in, something I wanted with an intensity beyond explanation.

One night we took a midnight hike into the woods. With the buddy system and flaslights we stepped on crackling branches, alerting every spider and squirrel to our presence. Settling down at the trust circle we popped lifesavers into our mouths and in the pitch black, sparks flew from between our teeth like the creation of tiny worlds.

Scott or Brian, oh I thought I'd never forget, with his sun bleached hair and devil-may-care attitude ignored me and of course I knew we'd end up together. But summer has a way of teasing. Easing you into a lull of warm nights and bright light and the endless hope of childhood.

I cried once. I begged to go home. My parents said no. Roots and wings. Love in equal measure.