I can summarize the last six years of my life in two words: “Mole Hole.” The last six years of my life, when I was at camp I’ve slept in the same cabin at least once each year. That was Mole Hole.
This summer when I was a counsellor all summer, I slept in it once. And that was the best week of my summer. It was teen week. I had the second oldest cabin of kids on site, and I loved them to death. They were also one of the most oddly behaved cabins ever. To see that all you have to do is look at my laptop’s desktop. It’s our cabin photo. It’s all of us dressed up for banquet pretending to be rock stars singing into our Popsicle microphones.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words. I believe that. Mainly because I can never forget that week. When I fell in the lake; our game of capture the flag; our sword fights; when my canoe paddle broke.
I was the youngest counsellor on sight and my co-counsellor, Colin, was the oldest. I found it ironic.
We are the strangest pair of counsellors: two ADHD ridden guys who constantly have to get up at dinner just so they don’t die from lack of movement. He has insomnia and I never wake up. We are polar opposites in every way. Yet that was my best week of counselling ever.
If my photo had some other person in it instead of Colin. I’d probably cry. He is 30 and still counselling. He was my counsellor for Christ’s sake. I learned so much from him that week. But most importantly, I learned we never have to grow up. I know that whenever I look at our cabin photo.
