June 10, 2014

June 10, 2013

June 10, 2013:

Maine is on my mind. It was always a very long trip to Maine, from Florida. Never less than two flights. Once I flew to Upstate New York, then took a bus. Then waited for hours at the bus station in nowhere Maine for someone from camp to pick me up, (Jodi, it was you, I remember). It was always a very long trip and by the time I arrived, I was in the land of fatigue psychosis, where nothing would make me feel better, only a good night’s sleep. Starting in South Florida and arriving in Maine is like going from one planet to another. Florida is flat, manicured, Maine is mountainous, lush. Maine saved me from my unhappiness in Florida. Maine was where I went every summer and found magic, so I knew magic existed somewhere in the world, even if it did not exist in Florida.

One summer, my first summer as a camp counselor in Maine, I was on my own. I went to camp not knowing anyone. Being a stranger is exciting and difficult, but the difficult part does not last very long. I was only a stranger for a brief moment, until I met all of those gorgeous women. It was the summer of women, the summer of being single, the summer of exploring myself as a stranger. Once, I was all alone. It was a day off and everyone had gone their separate ways for the day. I left camp with a friend, but not a close friend. He liked me, liked me, but I did not feel the same way about him. I wanted to go swimming and I wanted to be alone, so he took me to a secluded spot that he knew and dropped me off. I went skinny dipping in the lake, lounged in the sun, enjoyed my solitude, feeling there was something so fantastic about being 20, being somewhere strange, being naked, being on my own.

June 10, 2014

June 10, 2013

June 10, 2012