When I was a kid, I went to a nearby camp for a summer… or maybe two summers, I don’t remember. There was a cute junior counselor who used to “dirty dance” with the girls. I didn’t like camp, as a general rule, but I enjoyed some of the trips. We went to the zoo once, and I bought a peacock feather. Before I got home, I managed to break the feather in half. I wasn’t really that upset about it, but I still remember that feather. I wonder if the feather remembers me.
A journey of 1,000 miles, yadda yadda. « Kate Can Cook said,
May 18, 2009 @ 2:55 pm
[...] know this seems like a crazy post (although not as crazy as my last one, am I right?), but it’s really just the last squeak of a cry for help and some perspective [...]