Hope let me skip flag-raising the next morning.
Because I still hadn’t even begun to write
my second piece for the Wall of Feelings.
It was so quiet as I sat on our cabin steps,
with no one else around.
Just me and a couple of birds
in the trees around me,
chirping at each other.
I hugged my knees
and thought and thought
about all that had happened
since the Esmeralda night.
I hate swim lessons.
But I like being better at treading.
I hate not having my thick quilt.
But I’m getting used to my bed.
I don’t like tetherball with tall people.
But I do with short.
I like Cornelius a lot.
I just wish he wasn’t named Alfie.
I hate chili and sloppy joes and bug juice
(and the chigger song).
But croutons
are delicious.
I miss my parents.
But I like my counselor and my very tall friend.
And,
more than anything else,
I hate my stupid life jacket.
When I’d finished writing, I added this picture:
Then I went to find Hope.
So I could give her my pages to post.