camp for the real world

i want to write a blog post
to get things out, to make things beautiful and memorable
but the words aren't coming.
i can't find the poetic words to describe my long, arduous days at camp
to describe the visual structures we created, the activities we fought to get to, the events we struggled leaving (pool), and the joyous laughs we shared at night on that rocking chair porch.
southern nights, rocked away, the sounds of heavy rainfall, the hot rolling fog that would rise from the ground following rain showers.
the weekends when we'd leave camp grounds, exploring the hip city
no making plans, but letting the night carry us through;
walking into album release parties for the experimental arts,
running through private gardens in the dead of the night with the buzz of gin in our souls & love in our hearts.
coming back to a different porch, spilling our stories. having kale, cornbread, and more gin.
unexpected drives to faraway towns, along beautiful, winding stretches of road and mountain.
the blue ridge parkway.
dancing: contra on thursdays, feeling like we were southern belles, spinning spinning spinning, from one man's arms to another's. the club, or "gaybar" as Ginny would say, on the weekends that let us get it all out. the drum circles where we'd move with the crowd, making new friends along the way.
the people we did it all for: our campers.
their smiles, their tears, their hugs and other forms of affection.
the moment B gave me an award for being the person he loved very much. when B and N would fight over me in the pool, they each wanted to kidnap me to their secret lair, but would settle on hugging me tightly. angry birds and listening to the waves splashing to the music (adagio or allegro?)
the radio show i'd put on with R outside the pool. Radio start: down by the bay, my mother would say, you're under arrest, that great big moose. Radio stop. busy time.
R and his pokemon schedule. running around the field, protecting our kickball team like zoroarc.
the first B and singing baby bumblebee, and pushing yellow, green, red wagons.
A and her "dammit alice in wonderland, are you listening to me?"
love love love the campers and their gifts. love my co-workers.
love people, they're what matters.