Of Flowers and Oak Leaves

Camp.

Camp camp camp camp camp camp camp!

C
A
M
P!

C.A.M.P!

I've got camp on the brain, can you tell?

So what if camp happened over a month ago? I've still got Emerald Cove fever pulsing through my veins and I've got no intention of bleeding it out. I mean, who in their right mind would want to?

This all might sound a little crazy, but then again camp (at least my camp) isn't exactly for the sane. I mean, once you've been to YSSC, things like seeing Biz jump-rope on a fax machine seem pretty normal.

And I think that's my problem.

Camp is so exciting and so incredibly otherworldly, that after those brilliant two weeks are over and you return to the mundane routines of your everyday life, you immediately begin to feel withdrawal. Depression in unavoidable in my case, and suddenly my friends here at home don't even begin to compare those I have at camp. Not to mention the staff.

Oh, the staff! How I envy them. While we get a measly twelve days, they get the whole summer of Flower Sundays, Oak Leaf Mondays, Lake Activities, and Baked Oatmeal! That may not sound like much to you, but I find all of these things incredibly enticing.

I think of that list, though, my favorites are Flower Sunday and Oak Leaf Monday (a new addition). Allow me to explain:

You see, these days aren't solely devoted to flowers and oak leaves, although I wish they were. No, on these days we take a certain amount of time to give each other compliments. Everyone begins with one flower and every time you give someone a compliment, you give them your flower or oak leaf. Oak Leaf Monday is almost exactly the same, except for the obvious: you give leaves instead of flowers.

Now, I don't enjoy these days for same reason that others do. Some would assume I enjoy them because I get to hear people tell me how great I am. While I enjoy a compliment just as the next, I'd much rather give one. Too many compliments at once can overwhelm me, and often make me feel embarrassed. I always imagine I come off as somewhat of a snob when I receive commendation. People will commend me for one thong or another, and all I can say is a shy 'thank you...'. People seem to look at me and wonder why I don't say more, but the simple truth is that I'm so flabbergasted by their compliment that I don't know what else to say!

It is for this reason that I enjoy these events. I take pride when at the end I can say, "I gave all my flowers away." I love when I am left with no flowers, not that I never receive any, mind you. This year I received several more than usual. I also challenged myself and gave more than usual. The look on someone's face when I give them a flower is the only thanks I need.

Though I took pride in the joy I was able to spread, there were two compliments in particular that made my session, possibly even my entire year.

The first was when Cobalt gave me a flower (I'd already given him one of mine) and told me he was looking forward to my poetry. Wow! As a writer, that's one of the most encouraging things to hear, especially from someone much older. And, as noted in previous posts, I frequently feel my work is inadequate. Much love to Cobalt for making my day!

The second came from a man we like to call The Byzantine Empire (Biz-- hmm...how come we don't spell it Byz? Just a thought...) on Oak Leaf Monday. That night, Biz told me that he wanted to know me when I get older, that he wanted to be able to say "I know India", because he says I'm going places. Again, wow! Now, twice in two days? That's God working right there. I have a feeling that when I find myself doubting my abilities as a writer, I will look back on those two moments and say "Well Cobalt likes my poems" or "Biz said I was going places".

Maybe this all too much. Maybe I'm reading too far into this, but can you blame me? These guys have about ten years over me and they said I've got something special. You'd be high as a kite, too!

I'll be honest, it feels a little weird writing about Biz and Cobalt. And no doubt someone will stumble upon this and label it as nothing more than silly camper's crush. I assure you, it us not. Not even close. I think I've pretty much outgrown that part of camp...Pretty much.

But now I feel my awfully long story must draw to end.
I'm half sick of these ramblings, my lover, my friend.
-- Me