Short Story: Summer Camp Blues

Short Story: Summer Camp Blues

Millie awoke to crusty eyes and a tear-soaked pillow, the all too familiar reminder that she had cried herself to sleep yet again. She reached for the rag doll at the foot of her bed, only to find that her biggest source of comfort had been ruined by a pungent campfire smell. The early morning sunlight seeped through the thick logs of the cabin, revealing a maze of cobwebs between the exposed overhead beams. You would think she had taken up residence in the barn from Charlotte’s Web. Careful not to wake the other girls, Millie reached into her corner nook and pulled out a cardboard box of floral stationary. I want to go home, she scribbled, please come get me. Millie placed two stamps in the upper right hand corner of the envelope – one to cover the postage rate and one to convey a sense of urgency – and printed her dad’s full name and address neatly in the center.

It was her dad’s idea to send her to summer camp in the first place. He had such fond memories from his years as both a camper and a counselor and he wanted Millie to grow up with the same traditional camp experience. Every so often, he would dust off the old banjo and strum his favorite camp songs from memory, recalling all the childish pranks him and his bunkmates used to play on one another. Then he would bring the photo albums down from the attic and flip through the same photos he had shown her a dozen times before, acting as if it was the first she had ever heard of this camp. He pointed to the archery range where he hit his first bull’s-eye, the dock where he had his first kiss, and the lake where he learned to sail.

Millie surveyed the cabin from her top bunk, curious if any of the other girls felt as homesick as she did. Samantha lay in the fetal position, knees pressed to her chest and arms wrapped tightly around her shins as if she had never left her mother’s womb. Alice slept like a porcelain doll, overgrown bangs dipping just below her eyebrows, freckled cheeks emitting a rosy glow, and shoulder-length pigtails framing her delicate face. Kate was flat on her stomach, face buried in her pillow and legs twitching on every other exhale; perhaps she too was dreaming of running away. Millie couldn’t help it, the homesickness had just become too much for her.

Home for Millie was a converted farmhouse in northern Vermont where she had lived all her life. Her mom passed away when Millie was two years old so as far as she could remember, it had always just been her and her dad. Naturally, they had become quite the father-daughter duo and shared a special bond that only the two of them could understand. They discussed world politics over pitted olives and tomato juice, played backgammon to the melody of the Beatles album Rubber Soul, and watched black-and-white reruns of Lassie while scarfing down oatmeal pancakes drenched in sweet maple syrup. Bear in mind, it was the middle of the 90s and Lassie had transitioned to color in 1965. This was just one of the many unique pastimes they enjoyed together.

Millie was startled by a loud knock on the hollow cabin door. She quickly stuffed the envelope and the box of stationary in her corner nook and pretended to be sound asleep.

“Rise and shine, campers,” Karla shouted, “it’s another beautiful day in the Catskills!”
“Ughhhhh,” echoed the girls, unable to comprehend how anyone could start their day with so much enthusiasm.
Karla wasn’t fazed. “I’ll see you ladies at breakfast in twenty minutes!”

Millie didn’t know how many more bowls of cold oatmeal she could stomach. She climbed down from the top bunk and made a dash for the bathroom to clean herself up, the last thing she wanted was people asking why she had been crying. As she splashed lukewarm water on her face, the reflection in the mirror flashed a fake smile, one that even had herself fooled for a split second. As the girls began to congregate in the bathroom and fight for a spot in front of the mirror, Millie returned to her bunk to change out of her pajamas and fetch the letter. She slipped the envelope into her back pocket, then met up with the other girls to walk over to the dining hall. Karla sat waiting for them at the head of the table.

“Good morning, girls! How are we all feeling today?”
Millie choked back her tears.
“We have some exciting activities to choose from this afternoon so listen up,” Karla continued. “Drum roll please…,” she paused for dramatic effect, “the first option is horseback riding, the second is fencing, and the third is fishing. Take a moment to think about your decision and be ready to share with the group after breakfast.”

Last month, Millie’s dad took her fishing for the first time on the occasion of her ninth birthday. They were up and out before the crack of dawn with a car full of fishing gear and a rowboat in tow. Before they set out on the Upper Connecticut River, Millie’s dad showed her how to bait the hook with worms, cast the line, and reel in the catch. Once Millie had the techniques down, she took charge of the rod and let her dad handle the oars. He rowed them out to the middle of the water and threw down the anchor. All that was left to do now was wait.

Within minutes, Millie screamed, “Daddy, I caught something!”
“There you go, you’re a natural! Reel her in.”
Millie excitedly spun the handle until the hook surfaced. To her dismay, a tangled wad of seaweed dangled above the water.
“Nice catch, sweetie!” The sarcasm in his voice was evident.
Millie shot her dad a glare. “Care for some greens?” she chuckled.
They both burst out laughing uncontrollably.

Their luck just went downhill from there and by noon, they decided to call it a day. Before rowing back to shore, Millie and her dad cracked open a can of tuna and a jar of mayonnaise, drowning their defeat in soggy tuna and mayo sandwiches. It wasn’t exactly the birthday lunch either of them had envisioned, but Millie wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Millie, would you like to start?”
“Huh?” Millie had only managed to gulp down two spoonfuls of her cold oatmeal.
“Your afternoon activity?”
“Oh right, I’d like to go fishing!”

Once everyone was excused, Millie carried her bowl into the kitchen and spooned her leftover oatmeal into the trash. In a brief moment of courage, she tore the envelope from her back pocket and tossed it into the bin as well. Millie couldn’t wait to catch the biggest fish and tell her dad all about it.

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2 Comments

  1. June 2, 2018 / 05:44

    can’t wait to see what’s next! homesickness can be so hard & I’m glad she’s excited about fishing 😊 this is great!

    • June 2, 2018 / 08:28

      I’m happy to hear Millie’s character resonated with you, growing up can definitely be tough at times 🤗 Thanks for reading Jamie!

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