Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Hello Mother, Greetings From Camp Ivegotlice Now! With a Response!



My mother wrote me a pressing email from St. Louis this morning:

Court,
I'm not getting your blogs unless you aren't blogging--what's up? Are you o.k? See what happens when you don't post then your mother starts worrying about you and if you are sick, alive, depressed, etc. Please blog. I love you so much!
your mom

I am suffering from blogger's block. I can't lie, it's bad this time around.

I will work on that, but in the meantime, this is for my mother.

Hey Mom!

This is a picture of me at a girls camp above Cedar City. I went to speak about "Being anchored in Christ." I told the story about going to girls camp when I was 12 and becoming really sick because I didn't acclimatize after being in Seattle (sea level) the week before. That was the same year I realized I had lice--and had spread it around the camp. We had to wash our hair in head-freezing water in the middle of the night.

Do you remember coming up to see me? Do you remember me begging you with all my homesick heart to please take me home? Do you remember refusing me? I will never get over watching your taillights lead down the dirt road that evening. I watched from the cabin's cut-out window with quite possibly the largest lump my throat has ever tried to swallow.

Thanks for not taking me home. I think it was character-building. I survived. And had you taken me home I wouldn't have had a story to tell over two hundred girls at camp twenty-one years later.

But just to be sweet, tell me it was hard for you to leave me. Tell me you stewed the entire car ride home--second guessed yourself and deliberated with Dad, thought about turning the car around. Tell me you couldn't sleep until I was happily home three days later. Tell me you cried. I want tears Mom.

And there is your post,
Court

Post-edit:

Here is what my mother wrote back to me this evening:

Thanks for the blog Courtney. I thought Mary Ellen brought you home but I think that was from the Trek and you threw up. It was something new each year. I'm sorry if after twenty years you still hate me--but I'm sure I knew you would be just fine.
I love you so
your mom





I am c jane and I miss my mother and my mind. In that order.

contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com