The morning whispers of perfection. The birds outside are singing softly and no cars are audible on the road. The sweet wet grass smell of early summer morning slips in the window. It is the perfect morning to lay still relaxing. It is the perfect morning for a walk. It is the perfect morning for coffee on the deck. But this morning is a special morning. This is the first day of camp morning for Cadence and I hear her rustle through the beads that cascade from her doorframe; up and moving without prompting. Cadence loves camp.Bushy Hill Incarnation Center is the home of Bushy Hill Day Camp and this year, Cadence is old enough for the teen program called Abo; short for Aboriginal, it is for ages 13-16 and a 4 session program teaching our instant, techno, electrically connected youth how to live close to mother earth. She will re-visit skills taught in years past about shooting arrows and building fires and starting them without matches. She will learn tree identification and how to recognize edible plants. She will learn tracking and shelter building and will sleep out one night under the stars in a shelter she creates herself. She will get dirty and exhausted and refreshed and recharged. She will re-connect with all that is essential and all that is to be cherished.
The commuter lot is filled with campers and mothers, some toting cameras and most drinking coffee. Cadence is the only teenager in the lot. She stands in line when the bus arrives towering over the little people all scrubbed and sun screened, lugging their essentials in backpacks with excitement and hesitation. She glances in my direction and I wait for a cue, fully expecting an embarrassed eye roll with a curt dismissal or a look of regret that she has gotten into something too juvenile. Instead she smiles and gestures how little they are with sweet nostalgia on her face. It will be a good couple of weeks.
At home the dogs are awaiting breakfast and the birds looking to begin their day, peeking out of holes they have chewed in their cage covers and trying all of the human communication they know to get my attention. I settle the fur and feathers and sit with my coffee, overwhelmed by the quiet. Tyler is sleeping after a late night with his band and Trevor is off to Hampton Beach for 4 days with a buddy; a summer ritual that is welcomed and needed. I have no assignments to fulfill for work today and I am paralyzed by the list of choices before me. Most of the college preparations are completed for Trevor and I am free to choose….really choose how to spend the quiet time before me. Clean my office/ paint the hallway/ weed the gardens/ fold the laundry…..
I rest my hands, wrists down, knuckles up on the black, plastic keys.
Double click Microsoft word. Hello Blank White Page. It’s me again. J