JENNIE
I'm wearing my yellow Camp Rubin T-shirt and my hair is still wet and smelling of chlorine from being in the pool, supervising during the swimming activities. Normally I wouldn't leave the house without drying my hair but here, I don't feel judged. No one cares what I look like as long as I help out with a smile on my face. And I've been smiling a lot. The kids are wonderful and seeing them having such a good time makes my day. We played a pirate game where the kids had to cross the pool on an inflatable raft and find treasure hidden on a fake beach. Jonathan, a twelve-year-old boy with Down syndrome who I looked after in the pool has latched onto me and wants to hold my hand everywhere we go. In his other hand, he's carrying a pirate flag that he waves with each step.
"We're going this way, that way, backward, forward. Up and down, up and down, over the deep blue sea," we sing together as we walk in a line toward the picnic tables. Some kids can't sing, but yell randomly along, inspired by the good vibe.
"Okay, Jonathan. I'm going to let go of your hand now, I have to go and help in the kitchen. Are you okay with that?"
He looks at me, deciding if he's fine with me leaving. The answer can only be 'yes' or 'no' as those are the only words he's used so far. A 'no' means a tantrum will follow; I've had to calm him down numerous times already. "Yes," he says, and I let out the breath I've been holding.
"Are you hungry?"
"Yes!" he yells, waving the flag. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!"
I help Jonathan up on the bench and get him settled, then make sure all other kids have a glass, a placemat and a napkin. One of the counsellors comes over so I can leave, and I make my way to the main building where the kitchen is situated. It's my first full day volunteering. After I came here with Nola, she was surprised that I signed up for three days a week. There are only a few counsellors and volunteers here; the camp has to make sure they're covered before the season starts, but they take on extra volunteers like Nola and myself, who can rotate and lend an extra hand as tending to these children is full-time and non-stop.
"Hi, I'm Jennie," I say, introducing myself to the kitchen staff as I don't recognize anyone from the first day. Just like on campus, the kitchen staff rotates too and today, a big, bearded man is running the kitchen. "What can I do?"
"Hey there, perfect timing. I'm Andy." He slides two trays my way. "Here are a couple of gluten free lunches. The kids' names are printed on the stickers in the corner. These are the only tailored lunches; all the others are standard so you can hand them out randomly." Andy starts placing more trays with pasta, fruit cups, yoghurt and water bottles onto the counter and someone comes in to help me bring them all out. There's immense excitement when we put the food down in front of them and discussions about favorite foods are loud and passionate.
Three children need help eating, the others are generally fine on their own. When everything is served and under control, I go back to the kitchen to check if there's anything else I can do.
"If you don't mind, we need someone to help wash the dishes." Andy points to the big sink and industrial dishwasher in the back.
"Sure," I say, and gasp when I see the carnage on every surface and the volume of chaos up-close. Pots and pans, roasting trays, a blender, cutting boards, cutlery and the coffee cups the volunteers have been using are piled up high. I don't know where to start and it's insanely hot in this part of the kitchen. Studying the dishwasher, I manage to figure out how to work it and start rinsing everything before I put it into the chunky square trays.
"Sorry. We're prepping for dinner too, so we can leave at five," Andy yells over the noise of the extractor fan. "There will be more dishes after this."
"No problem," I yell back and shoot him a smile. Sweat is dripping down my back as I scrape the leftovers out of the heavy pans and into the trash. My mother would be shocked to see me working as a kitchen porter in shorts and a T-shirt, with my unwashed hair tied into a messy topknot and no makeup on. Ella would be amused, I think. I don't think she's seen me do anything like this before as we've always had a housekeeper. I cook sometimes, and I used to make the kids breakfast in the morning, but this kind of work is alien to me and it's physically hard. Batches come and go yet clearing the mess is cathartic and I don't mind it at all. Reflecting on how privileged I've always been, I tell myself that now is the time to pay it forward and seeing how I've been enjoying myself today, I know I'm even going to have fun along the way.
I'm clammy and exhausted but in a great mood when I come home. Glancing at the pool, the water has never looked so inviting. I hardly ever used it, not wanting to mess up my hair after drying it in the morning, but right now I can't think of anything better than a swim. Opening the sliding doors, I strip off my clothes, leaving them in a pile by the doorway. Sunlight plays upon the surface as the soft wind causes subtle ripples over the water. Behind it, the Atlantic is wilder than usual and I can hear the waves rolling, crashing against the shore. I love the ocean and the view, the beach and the seclusion, and I don't feel lonely here anymore as today made me feel like I was part of something meaningful, of something bigger. The wind blows against my skin as I cross the terrace naked. I've never been naked in my own backyard and although it feels strange and even a little naughty, it's also very liberating.
Diving in at the deep end, I surrender to weightlessness. The water hugs and soothes me as I cross the full length of the pool, swimming with even strokes as I glide above the floor. After a hectic day, the silence below the surface feels like heaven. Peaceful, calming and wonderfully surreal. Coming up for air, I brush my hair away from my face and turn onto my back to drift, soaking up the evening sun. Enjoying a new sense of accomplishment and the memories I made today, being tired has never felt so good.