Success

It's like setting off a pistol. Pulling the trigger, and letting it go. Like launching a rocket. Or shooting a rubber band. You give instructions, watch their excited faces, say the magic words... and they are off, to carry out their mission. So happy. So trusting. So little. So eager to please.

It's like a zebra. One stripe across the nose. Bright red. No tan.

It's like opening your mouth, and no sound emerging. Voice is just gone.

It's like being burried alive. Correction: it IS being burried alive. Watching those eager faces, laughing, as they push you onto the sand. As they shovel and dig, burrying you beneath layers and layers of the fine, grainy stuff. Feeling it seep into places it really shouldn't be. Closing your eyes, and mouth, wishing it is over, but being a good sport nontheless, for their sake.

Now its in my ears. Now my hair is stuck. I can't move. I don't know why, but they love it. The torture your head counselor activities. They thrive on it.

Multiple pictures, and videos later, they are finally done. I'm burried. Getting up is the hard part. Shake out my hair, brush off my clothes, try not to think of what I look like. Coming home, washing my hair 3 times, brushing it out to find more sand lodged in. Trying to feel annoyed, but remembering the campers joyous shouts of glee. I laugh, cuz it's so funny. I would do it again in a second, if it made them happy.

This summer is about them. Not me. If someone were to ask me, do you enjoy being a head counselor, I would laugh. Or smile. How do you answer that? If they are happy, then so am I.