"Some folks look back on a lifetime of yesterdays thinking of what might have been, while others they dwell on the thrill of today; they don't care if they lose or they win."A fourteen year-old boy who has seen hardships I'll never know held my hand and cried. He said to me, "it doesn't matter that I'm going back to camp Sunday... A camp, Sunday... it isn't Waycross. Waycross is different. I'm not ready to go." And holding back my own tears I said, "I'm not ready either. But we've got next summer, and the next, and the next. That's what matters."
I brought Bri to Waycross. On the way home she said, "This has been the best summer of my life." That's it folks. Waycross has the arms to cradle the hearts of the hundreds who have danced to "will the circle be unbroken!" and swayed to "both sides now." It's a warmth we hold; a power we posses. We are One Body. We each make Waycross what it is: a haven for anyone willing to be vulnerable enough for that body to feel the genuineness in their hearts, to accept them and rejoice in their strengths.
I broke Friday night. I cried and cried. I just broke. During serenades I was useless. I didn't want to sing because I had no voice left anyway. But even more than that, I felt that lump in my throat. I knew that if I tried to make noise, my voice would break, and I would cry, and I wouldn't be able to stop. And that's what happened. I just sobbed. I kept thinking, "I'm just not ready. I can't do it yet." Things at home aren't awesome right now. My family is struggling with the loss of a parent, the metaphorical (and alarmingly possible) loss of my brother, and the intensity of my family's work. At Waycross, I was comfortable with my vulnerability to those matters. But I was safe there. At home things kept happening, but camp kept going--camp was still magic. I'm starting to learn that all those things are really all the same. Those little upsets are all the exact same. I can still live in a bubble, reflecting those painful things back to where they came. I can deal with them on my own time. And happiness is nothing more than a deep breath of sanity away.
|Met an old friend on the street yesterday, got to talkin' bout days gone by. The summer camp stories we told made us laugh. But a campfire song made us cry.|