“I have to go to the bathroom now!!!” I listen and sigh heavily, slowing turning around to ask 6 year-old Trinity the question of which I already knew the answer: “Could you wait until we get inside?” She stares at me relentlessly, hands plastered on hips, as if the question asked is rhetorical and angrily replies “NO I CANT HOLD IT! I HAVE TO GO NOW!!!” Piercing voices echo throughout the hallways, twisting and winding themselves through the newly renovated Girl Scout Center; pleasant, clear reminders of the bubbling excitement for the new day. My steps quicken as I hear the footsteps of ones following me growing closer and feel the strength of small fingers eager to grab my jacket and realize my attempt to escape has ended. “Heaven! Heaven! Heaven! Can we go with you?” The nickname, which when first given to me appeared charming and sweet, warped into a torture method used by endearing young girls in attempt to acquire my attention five days a week, nine hours a day. The trip to the bathroom, which a minute ago was only required by Trinity, all of a sudden became required by Melissa, Eva, and Dajza. Bubbled filled swimming pools, scattered scraps of construction paper, back and forth trips to the park, and enthusiastic faces awaited me each day. These endless hours of torture were my summer, and I loved every minute of it.
I remember the day I hung up the phone after my first job interview for a camp counselor and the only words running through my mind were: “We’re happy to tell you in advance you have received the job as a camp counselor!” I dreaded the first day as thousands of questions tumbled through my mind. How many counselors will there be? Will they be nice? Will the kids like me? My mind raced uncontrollably until the first day finally arrived and I stepped into the multi-colored Girl Scout building where all my questions would soon be answered.
The next few weeks approached quickly as I made weekend plans with my fellow counselors outside of work and planned daily activities for my group of kids. Never did I think I would spend my summer standing in seemingly unbearable heat, amidst swarms of the girliest Girl Scouts imaginable, each no older than ten. I never anticipated hearing continuous shrieking and shouting, and yelling “Clean up!” until the phrase began to sound incorrect. When I think back to that summer, I no longer linger on the first day and how terrified I was to begin my first job. I think back to how surprised I was the day Trinity uncaringly yelled at me about going to the bathroom. I think about how adorable she looked with one pigtail sitting higher than the other, crocs on the wrong feet, and a face of determination. “I love you Heaven!”, “I want to be like you.” as well as “you’re so fun!” are a few of the sentiments uttered by the girls. As they repeated these phrases throughout the summer, they were blind to the affect their presence also had on me. Their kindness and smiling faces helped me grow mentally as a person and I couldn’t imagine spending that summer anywhere else.