Ready for the Post

As I stood gazing at the ground, a tiny spot of water landed in between the parted hair on top of my head.  As I bravely looked upward, the month of June began to shower her likeness of me softly onto my face.  The light blue sky reminded me of the plane ride from England, as myself, mother and siblings headed towards my grandmother in the United States.  It was a ripping moment, as my memory floated up over my head trying to run behind laughing clouds that were rolling away.  It was at that moment, time stood frozen.  I remember wiggling my little hands from the grasp of my father at the airport to join my siblings, who were already in line for boarding, along with my mummy--that's what many English children called their mothers.  He had taken me to the restrooms and we became detached from the family.  How quickly my life would of changed, if he held on a little tighter.  It was not any different from boarding the bus for camp, except that my mother was eager to send me.  Nevertheless, I blinked my eyes, to forget about that daunting moment, that haunts me unto this day.  Perhaps, history repeated itself again at nine years old, but in a different context?  Now back to my story.  After the tiredness of twisting my feet inward and outward softly on the green baby moss, like the heaviness sight of the gothic erected  Westminister Abbey-- the plaid red coat my back, finally my name was called.  I was instructed to lineup with a group of young girls, who sneered as we met each others eyes.  But, with no more than a rabbit's jump, I landed perfectly into my place in line.  Also, my counselor name was "Jackie" who was a petite, fair-complexioned, yet olive in flavor and pleasant young woman that helped me overcome challenges.  Now, I will gladly discuss in more details my relationship with Jackie further on in my future blogs.  At the sound of the whistle, and the blaring of the camp trumpet--as if we were all off to the races--the six little camper girls marched forward into the pine-smelling woods.  My green-blue suitcase (unknown to me) was on its own future mission, as it purposely dug its invisible heels into the unearthed soil, leaving a trail behind me.  All in all, the sun peeked between the treetops and graced us with her shine by beaming heavy on our little heads.