Monday, August 9, 2010

Camp Opequon Magic

Just came home from Camp Opequon. This is my fifth year cooking in the camp kitchen to help pay J's camp tuition. This year J also worked to help pay her way to Teen Adventure. While we worked, Tz ran around like a wild child. She had a great time, and even made $1.07 selling homeade jewelry from a table outside of the dining hall. She lost her second tooth to much public acclaim.

At camp many capable hands work individually to create a love event also known as breakfast, lunch, or dinner. The cooks are quiet. The cooks talk, sing, and generally support one another. We occupy various states of being found through chopping ginger meditation, icing scones meditation, or other given opportunities to focus our minds. Each year small miracles happen. Consciousness may shift between the first cracked egg and the ninetieth. A cranky, lonely journey with yellow onions, may become community celebration with the added support of peppers, tomatoes, and garlic. Loud singing and joking may turn inward through the repeated action of frying falafal. Each year the cooks change; the miracles happen just the same.

This year, however, was the best, because J and I worked together. Wow. Observing her interact with other cooks, voice opinions at meetings, and work steadily made this week at Opequon one of my all time favorite weeks. Even knowing that she is competent, and capable did not prepare me for her confidence, and super work attitude. Thank you, BYM camps for a wonderful mother-daughter bonding experience.

Now we're gearing up for the school year. Without the shared purpose cooking, tensions will reemerge. We'll work against each other at times, but something crucial has changed. My perception of J has shifted. This week I truly acknowledged that my daughter walks capably down her own path. She is growing up. Yes, I had an idea that it was happening. Now I'm sure -and glad- that it is.

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