My (Childhood) Summer

This summer I am reliving childhood summers.

I am privileged to work at a day camp where I am out on the playground at 8am. My tennis shoes are damp and my knees muddy from playing soccer before the dew has disappeared. I have my monkey bar callouses again even though I now fall off after two bars. I swing, laugh, spin and climb. I peer at toads, throw footballs, and play tag. I can feel my lungs getting stronger, my legs getting faster, my smile getting wider. I can't believe this is a job.

My knees are already scraped and bruised just like the summer I was seven and wrecked my bike in gravel. My arms are tan just like the early years before school that I spent my days outside, only going in for lunch. The worst days are the rainy days when I can't smell the grass and run on mulch. The best days are the pool days when I climb the six flights of stairs to go down the steep blue waterslide. I love this job.

Life isn't as simple as it was during my childhood, though. Now I resolve the foursquare squabbles. I soothe hurt feelings, bandage battered knees, and open juice boxes. I am no longer "Rebekah" but instead "Miss Rebekah." And I am OK with this. I like being called "Miss Rebekah."

After a day of being "Miss Rebekah" I go home heart-exhausted. I have loved children by listening to them, comforting them, and encouraging them. I go home at night head-exhausted. I have loved children by problem-solving with them, teaching them, questioning them, and giving them choices. I go home at night completely spent. I have loved children by playing tag with them, swimming with them, and feeding them. I couldn't care less about the exhausted part. I love my job and I love my kids. Four more weeks.