two weeks away from home.
two long weeks.
14 days.
no parents.
no siblings.
my only form of communication with the outside world?
old-fashioned letter-writing.
my hand's going to be sore.
two long weeks.
i've never been to camp before.
and never alone for such a long time.
the musty pine air sticks to my nose
as the door slams behind me on it's spring;
wood against wood in a loud clap.
i shuffle across the worn wooden floor,
while the wind whistles through the screen
metal creeks
protesting my weight upon the bedsprings.
one by one they file in,
muscles straining, loudly groaning, their suitcases digging against the ground.
my eyes dart around the room as i mumble a "hi" to each cabinmate.
stuck in this shack with 7 girls and one counselor
whose watchful gaze suffocates yet shelters.
home sweet home.
and WHAT? one shower for 30 girls?
i can almost see the microscopic germs crawling all over that one lucky shower curtain.
behind the bath, about ten feet away sits a tiny wooden shack.
the more experienced campers tell me it's the privy.
what's a privy?
solid dark brown paint covers the entire little structure.
i grasp the handle to the lone door and it slowly creaks open.
a pungent air punches my nostrils.
the door slams back in place.
two weeks in this place?
it's a 5 hour drive from home.
two long weeks.
trees surround the entire grounds.
green leaves and blue sky fill my eyes everywhere i look.
peace from my turbulence.
a time to just think and be myself
the rocks beneath my feet crunch as i walk down the dirt paths
new friendships surround me
the warmth of a loving hug
acceptance
someone would actually take time to sit with me for a whole afternoon
just to know me better
the sun beats upon my face
grains of sand stick to my clothes as i rest in the sunshine.
the lake water shimmers and gently splashes against the shore
i think i could get used to this.
ah...two weeks.
so much to do.
the sweat pours from my brow,
as i run from the beach,
to the basketball court,
bat at a tetherball and then pick up a ping pong paddle.
dashing past the archery set, i run onto the soccer field prepared to score a goal.
i strum a chord on my guitar and sing along under the hot sun.
green and brown paint adorns my fingers as i leave the craft room,
in search of a sink to scrub off the acrylic colors.
even in the lengthy wait for the shower,
i laugh and chatter with the others craving for the same cleansing sensation,
of cool water removing coarse sand from our skin,
the soothing feeling of soap and water,
washing free the sweat from our bodies.
we desire the purifying aroma of herbal essence in our hair.
the fun never ends.
each night is a vain attempt to sleep earlier,
every morning a battle to get up.
the crisp cold morning air stings me every time,
brushing down my neck and straight into my toes.
talk about a morning call,
but i'm getting used to it.
it's routine.
i'm here for only two weeks?
lasting bonds.
the tears cling to my cheeks like crystals,
glistening in the sun.
goodbye already?
it can't be.
it's too early.
someone turn back the clock.
but...but i just got here,
we just started to have fun.
i long to run once more down the dirt paths,
around the bend and jump,
into the lake waters,
the rushing sensation trickling through my spine,
just like those cold morning awakenings.
i want to stay here forever,
the genuine care and new-found friendships,
fill me to the core of my being.
two weeks is such a short time.
-karen chiang 11/28/2000