this one time at camp - oh wait

canon digital rebel xsi

Recently Adrienne's House posted about how people can get their panties in a knot over what to call spring break. I say it doesn't matter what you call it, you just need to know when it is.

When I was in 5th grade, my Mom signed us up for YMCA camp over spring break. Of course we were in Catholic school, so our break was truly an Easter break. We went home early Holy Thursday, were off on Good Friday, and then back in school the week after Easter.

That Friday night my sister and I rolled up our sleeping bags, and packed up our clothes. We went to bed early as we had to be up first thing to be on the bus that would take us to the mountains for a week.

We arrived shortly after 8, to find the parking lot at the YMCA empty. Where was the bus? Where were the other campers? Were we early? Late?

Several minutes passed, and still there wasn't any sign of anyone. In these situations my sister and I knew better than to say anything, so just sat silently in the back seat, clutching our knapsacks. Around a quarter to nine, one of the staff showed up to open the office. She recognized my Mom, and wondered where we were last week.

That's right, we missed camp because my Mom didn't bother to check the dates. She figured spring break was spring break. And yes, no one from the YMCA called to find out why we didn't show up, despite a single mother paying in full for her two daughters to attend camp.

Honestly, I really wasn't looking forward to going to camp, so wasn't very disappointed. I do think though that that was the Easter we had cold pizza for dinner. I don't remember what she did with us that week. No memory at all.


on the night stand ::Little Bee by Chris Cleave