Tag Archives: singing

A Little Longer Here With You

Her name was Joanna, but I didn’t learn that until the end of the second summer. To me, to the hundred other girls a week at camp, she was “Sam.” She was one of two counselors-in-training (CITs) those summers and she was amazing. Energetic and silly, mischievous and kind. And she sang. Always she sang.

When she reappeared at camp a few summers later as a full staff member, she had a new camp-name, TBear, but it didn’t change her essential coolness. I would have followed her anywhere, and probably did follow her everywhere I could.

Every night, we’d build a fire in the fire circle by the pond and she would sing.

Twenty years later, I lie in bed with my three year old son asking him what song he would like. He has exhausted my usual repertoire of lullabyes.

“Mama? I want a new song.”

I stare blankly into the milky darkness of his bedroom for a moment before the song comes into my head–full blown and ready to go. Not only did Joanna teach it to me, I in turn taught it to hundreds of girls in turn as a CIT and counselor.

Linger

I want to linger
a little longer–
a little longer here with you.

It’s such a perfect night;
it doesn’t seem quite right,
that it should be my last with you.

And come September,
I will remember
my camping days and friendships true.

And as the years go by,
I’ll think of you and sigh.
This is goodnight and not goodbye.

I want to linger
a little longer–
a little longer here with you.

“I like The Linger,” he says to me when I finish it. “How do you know that song?”

“I learned it at summer camp.”

“I will go to summer camp.”

“I hope so, baby. I do.”

A few moments later, I closed the door and I realized several of the lullabyes I sing, I know from Joanna. They’re so much a part of me, I’d forgotten where they came from.

Dig deep to find what, from your childhood, you still know from heart.

Happy Birthday, My Love!

Today’s Mark’s birthday. I won’t tell you how old he is. (because he’s not actually old, and also? I’m already trampling his jealously guarded privacy by even writing about it being his birthday, and I don’t want you all being all okay, so if’s he’s x, and counting backwards on your fingers, toes, and any other available appendages ’til you get to year y. that would just be creepy.) I will tell you I’m making strawberry shortcake tonight, and that per the request of the small boy in our household, there will be party hats, candles, and singing.

Because for god’s sake, it a birthday, people!

Here they are this time last year. One of them looks a whole lot more grown up this year…

Now I Know My ABC’s… Sort Of