“I’m so close to getting my junior lifesaving certificate,” Zelda added. “I only need to dive to the bottom of the lake and retrieve a weight, and I’m learning how to sail and water ski. When I’m old enough, I want to come back and be a lifeguard at the waterfront.”
“Also, I made you a present in arts & crafts, and Maggie said she wasn’t going to fire the kiln until right before Visiting Day,” Hazel said.
“And I don’t want to miss color war and that’s at the very end of camp.” Zelda, hands on her hips, glared at me defiantly. “I’m not leaving until the very last day.”
We silently stared at each other. My children had made compelling arguments. At least they’d been listening. If I took them out of camp today, I would lose all credibility, and they’d never listen to me again.
I sighed. “Okay, you win. You can stay.”
They both looked astonished.
“Really?” Hazel asked.
“I asked you to convince me and you did.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Zelda said.
“Wait a second, what about you, are you staying?” Hazel asked.
I couldn’t walk out of camp and leave my children behind, with Jack in charge. “I’m not sure.”
Hazel sat on my lap, gave me a hug, and whispered in my ear, “I love you no matter what you decide.”
Zelda shrugged and said, “I hope you don’t expect me to put all that stuff away.”
It occurred to me while showering that I’d be sitting across the table from Marilyn at dinner. That would be awkward. Attending meals was mandatory, but even if I could skip it, I wouldn’t—I was starving. I wasn’t about to say anything to her about her husband. I’d wait to see if she brought up our encounter. I doubted she would, but you never knew.
Dinner wasn’t appealing—it was always some form of fried chicken and spaghetti—so I ate another boring salad. Marilyn barely looked at me, but to be honest, she rarely did.
That evening’s activity was Campfire. Thankfully, it required minimal assistance from me. I just had to make sure thatthe Cubs showed up wearing straw campfire hats and insect repellant.
The sun hadn’t set but you could already see the moon. The Swans stood at the entrance to the campfire, singing a welcoming song and ushering the girls to the benches facing the fire. Quite a few hats sported multicolored feathers that stuck out at odd angles. I took inventory, counting forty-eight Cubs for at least the twentieth time that day. Then I searched out Zelda and Hazel. It was difficult finding them under the straw-brimmed hats.
The Swans began teaching camp songs with hand motions while the rest of us followed along.
Everyone was smiling and singing loudly. Correction: everyone but me. This was my kind of activity, being with your girlfriends, sharing joy and camaraderie through song. I felt cheated that I couldn’t get into the spirit.
After the songs, the Swans explained what each feather represented. One by one, each Swan stood and told the group what she had done to earn her colors: taking part in a tournament, scoring a bullseye, being in the play, and numerous other accomplishments.
I noticed only a few hats had an oversized white feather with a bright green tip.
Mindy explained, “Ah, yes, the elusive green tip. It’s given to the camper of the week. There are only eight of those given each summer.”
“Did you ever get one?”
Mindy laughed. “I was way too naughty.”
Marilyn handed the DLs a bag of green feathers to distribute to their bunks.
“You literally get a feather in your cap just for showing up. Which is mandatory.” Mindy laughed and took my hat, ripping the rim so it would fray. “So, tell me, what’re you thinking?”
“How happy Zelda and Hazel are and wondering if I left them here, would they still be happy?”
“Probably, but I’m sure they have some comfort knowing that you’re here.”
She rolled the short sleeves of my white polo and turned my collar up in the same camp chic style she wore hers. She put her hands on her hips, appraising me. “Nowyou look like you belong here.”
“I wish I felt that way. If it weren’t for my kids, I would’ve left hours ago.”
