Till The Atlantic's Dry |
Ohio, resolution I don't like to think about the campsite in Ohio. I bite down on my lip without thinking whenever it rolls through my mind. It was a wonderful vacation, my stepfather took us there on our way to Virginia when I was 6. A massive, shiny black bug that looked like a cross between a bee and a cockroach had nestled into the dusty, sun-faded material between the backseat and the rear window. My mother saw it out of the corner of her eye when we reached the campsite, and screamed loud enough to wake George Washington. She ordered everyone out of the car, she said it could be poisonous. she said we don't know what kind of species of insects are in America. The man at the gate that stuck a little card on our front window said that the campsite used to be an indian reserve. my brother looked for arrowheads. My sister and me went to find washrooms, and I looked for the 'girls' symbols on the doors of the small wooden huts. my sister explained that they were latrines and they didn't separate them, that we shouldn't worry about looking for symbols on the doors. We could use whatever washroom we wanted. The showers were coin-operated. My mother was left with soap in her hair...the shower ended sooner than she had thought, and she hadn't brought any more coins. Me and my sister didn't bother with showers, we jumped in the river. I pretended I was Laura Ingalls Wilder and I was crossing the Missouri. My sister explained that Laura Ingalls Wilder wasn't Native American. It was necessary to eat corn on the cob with butter and walk around in a state of obvious bedtime deprivation during the day, and at night, watch the beads of condensation roll down the sides of the tent trailer walls and feel the itchy dampness of the foam sleeping pad seep through your nightgown...be the last to fall asleep, always, not because you tried to stay awake, just because everyone else could sleep in their wet cocoons and you couldn't. The fear of not being able to get to sleep. I did not sleep the night before FalconRidge, last year. I went online until about 2 am, then tried to sleep...gave up after 2 hours of tossing and turning and read old magazines, made lists, clipped my toenails, checked my bags twice, watched a documentary, and ate mini wheats until 5 am, when we were supposed to leave. Then I woke up Mom, quietly, carefully, so very nicely and suggested that it was 5 am and we should probably be on our way. We stopped when we passed Gananoque. I bought a map of New York State from a cranky gas station attendant who didn't speak English and didn't understand what I was saying when i asked how far Hillsdale was from Albany. I bought American chicken from the cult chicken chain, and I bought American gum (best gum ever...Orbit gum...can't get it in Canada) from the pharmacy beside the chicken store. I got there and saw a big blob of tents and was overwhelmed...I dug in my bag for my glasses and put them on and saw a more sharply outlined big blob of tents and was still overwhelmed. I gave them my ticket and they passed my bright red wristband down a line of volunteers and said to follow it, and each one of them greeted me and asked me where I was from, shook my hand...I had then not slept for about 35 hours, I didn't quite understand this procedure, or why they wouldn't just give me my wristband straight out. My mother and I went out for dinner tonight- it's the last day of school, so also the first day of March Break, half a month (HALF A MONTH!)...half a month of no school. We had snow pea and sundried tomato pizza. I hung my coat on a wall ornament because I thought it was a coat rack. Mom did it too. the waiter was an old man with a soft voice and an italian accent...he laughed, said that's the first time anyone has ever done that...touched my hand lightly and said not to worry, everything will be taken care of. I cannot pretend that everything has been taken care of. I cannot pretend that everything has been resolved. It does not disappear like a snow pea and sundried tomato pizza. I do not like thinking about that campsite in Ohio. |
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