6/13/11

home is where the heart is

It's a fact: I've got ants... in my pants. I'm a nomad. I have no "home." My friends and lovers exist all over the world and I cannot stay in one place for any period of time. My 1.5 months in Whistler that turned into 8 months has now turned into 6. About two weeks ago I had terrible insomnia and by the time 6am rolled around mind really started wandering. It really started hitting me that as wonderful as my life in Whistler has been, and as much as I feel I never want to leave, there is something significantly missing from my life. I wrote an e-mail that's turning my summer around a little bit.
In 2007 I went on a website called campstaff.com and filled out an application to become a camp counselor and that small act led to others that landed me by myself in Maryland, USA unpacking two suitcases in a cabin at an unfamiliar camp that I knew no one at. It was one of those things in life that you really feel like you had no part in. I filled out the application, wrote the e-mails, had the phone interview, and booked my flight, but it still felt like there was something outside of me leading me to this place where I would begin a very important journey. I left there feeling like that chapter was over but sure enough I found myself there again one year later - this time with a handful of returning staff that I could call my friends. Two summers as a camp counsellor, I thought, was enough. I got my fill of "being a kid," not really making a whole lot of money, and acting like an insane person day after day (because at camp, it's encouraged).
Since my last summer at Sandy Hill, I haven't had significant experience working with kids. I definitely had a few small volunteering opportunities here and there, but nothing like the 24/7 type of hours I had with camp. There is something so incredibly fulfilling about waking up at 5:30am, getting as much coffee and adult/alone time as I can before reluctantly dragging myself to staff meeting, listening to the incredible camp director say "Be AMAZING Today," and then waking up a cabin full of sleepy-headed 12-year old girls and then continuing your day by dressing up, playing games, being enthusiastic, and trying to stay sane. The Friday they leave is probably the most fulfilling when those same girls share with you how much you mean to them and how they will never forget you (despite how annoyed they were when you obnoxiously woke them up every day at 7:15am).
After three years with the idea in my head that I'd never be returning, I am going back to Sandy Hill for weeks 5-8 in 2011. I am sadly leaving the free and good life in Whistler, BC and flying 4000km because I am obsessed with kids. It just really hit me that these opportunities are far and few in between these days. Here's to taking advantage of any that come my way.
This is camp.
This is camp.
This is camp.
This is camp.
This is camp.