A Boy for All Seasons

Wild Flowers 🌸

April had brought with it the dismal non-stop showers that proverbially promised flowers for May.  Yet this year, much of May had been equally as over cast and gloomy.  The campgrounds were awash with mudded pathways, deep puddles, and sodden fields.  Preparing to receive campers had never seemed quite so daunting a task.  Drudging through each day in rain-soaked solidarity, the team of young counselors set themselves to the venture with a level of alacrity that could only be attributed to their youthful ardor and thankfulness to be away from their parents for an entire summer.

Emma was now a senior counselor and, having reached the ripe old age of nineteen, she was one of the eldest.  She had been travelling to Camp Hermosa for years, and it was the only place where Emma truly felt like herself.  This summer, she was looking forward to her new position as programming coordinator as it offered her a chance to exercise her leadership skills.  Encouraging others, delegating tasks, and cheerleading activities were easy roles for her.  She was practically chomping at the bit to get the summer underway.  And the cherry on top was that she got to share the experience with her special someone: Harry.

A most beautiful and tender young man, Harry was the boy of Emma's dreams.  He was charming and sweet, generous and kind.  He was patient with the youngest campers, often winning them over with silly faces.  Yet, Harry had a commanding presence, one that could not be ignored.  Even the oldest kids respected and revered him. It was not unusual to see a throng of children following Harry around camp, laughing at his awful jokes, climbing on top of his nimble frame, or clamoring for one of his famous hugs.  Harry's embraces were known to linger, and to be so tight that it made you feel as safe as a bug in a rug.  Nothing could go wrong when you were in Harry's arms, a fact Emma knew all too well.  Harry was her sunshine.

Harry brought light even on the darkest evenings, when clouds blotted out the sparkling lights of the stars.  When he sat with his guitar perched on his knee around the campfire, it was like the rest of the world fell away.  His clear, beautiful voice conveyed a richness that was beyond his years.  From his gravelly low rock tones, to his soulful and clear falsetto notes, Harry's musical stylings were absolute perfection.  Emma felt like Harry spoke to her very soul.

It was on one of her very first nights at camp, when Emma was feeling the melancholy tug of homesickness, that's Harry's voice pulled her from the depths.  He was singing John Denver's "Country Roads", a camp favourite, so perfectly that Emma couldn't help but tap her toes and sing along.  As she let her own soprano voice melt with his, Harry looked up at her from across the fire.  The instant connection was undeniable, and the pair had been an inseparable camp duo ever since.

It has been said that there are no truer friends than camp friends, and for Emma and Harry, there was not truer bond than the one they shared.  When summers ended and they were forced back to reality, the three hour distance between them seemed like a vast, bleak chasm. Small visits were manageable, but half a day together wasn't enough to quell the deep-seated need they had for each other.  Not even the promise of handwritten letters or Harry's carefully crafted care packages full of love notes, dried flowers, and mixed tapes could keep Emma from crying into her pillow many nights.  And no matter how many songs Harry wrote, or t-shirts he splashed with Emma's perfume, his arms still ached to hold her.

The cool wind that crept into the end of the summer had transitioned into brisk, crisp fall weather.  Soon a chill pushed through the snows of winter, and the bitter sense of loss sunk into their souls.  A quick visit at Christmas reignited the fire in their bellies and sailed them through to the New Year.  Then came the dreary monotony of January, and the candlelight vigil of Valentine's Day apart.  Murmuring soft nothings into the phone was no match for the heat that exploded between them when they touched.