Zeesy is lounging on Debbi’s bed, looking at my photos after dinner.

“Mrs. K.’s speech was awesome,” she says lazily.

“It was,” I agree.

Mrs. K., the camp mother, is an actual panic. Like you look at her and you can see the 16-year-old she once was.

Zeesy starts humming Mordechai Shapiro, Debbi joins, and pretty soon the two of them are belting out song lyrics while we all pretend to be annoyed. I roll my eyes at Shan Davis, who I’ve never really gotten to know, but looks totally cute. We’ve been together the past three summers, but hi, I have Debbi and Zeesy. I join in for the grand finale and then fall on the bed, breathless, while they take their bows.

***

I am officially freezing.

“It’s freezing,” I say cleverly.

Zeesy tries to answer, but her teeth are chattering too hard. I think what she said was, “I miss L.A.”

Debbi has her hood pulled tight over her head, and we’re pretty much miserable as we make our way to the dining room for breakfast. I don’t think any of us thought it’d be pouring this hard, this early.

“Why did we do this to ourselves?” I moan to Debbi. She just shakes her head. Are we too old for fun? Or are we just caffeine deprived?

We turn the bend and stop. A group of sophies are legit dancing in the rain, hoods thrown off, heads thrown back, arms spread wide. Their mouths are open as they try to catch the drops and they are shrieking with laughter.

“Well, that’s a nutritious breakfast,” Debbi says.

Zeesy squints at them. “I want to join but I also want to smack them and I can’t explain it.”

I laugh at Zeesy’s conundrum. “C’mon guys, they’re too cute. Let’s join!”

Throwing my hood off, I leave my hair in Hashem’s hands, grab a sophie, and start dancing with her. Someone turns on the camp song and we all shout into the drops “Ashreeeeinuuu, we’re in Ashreinu! Ashreinu, We’re in Ashreiiinu….”

By the time we reach the dining room 20 minutes later, I’m wide awake and have never needed coffee to jumpstart my day less in my life. I love camp.

’Kay, Debbi is annoying me. The TC dining room is way smaller but so cute and cozy, and I said something about it. She turned around and balancing her plate of eggs, said something like, “You are way too chipper.”

You know what, morning dancing might have made me chipper, but she is being grouchy. And I’m a little done with it. I look for Zeesy; she has her hood pulled up again. So I’m guessing she’s on Debbi’s wavelength. Fun fun. Well, excuse me for not being a grump.

I slide into the first available seat; Shan Davis smiles at me, a wide happy smile. Guess it’s not actually illegal to be happy, whatever Debbi and Zeesy say. How refreshing. I smile back.

Mrs. K. gets up on stage and we all belt out Ashreinuuuu one more time, just for good measure.

She laughs. “Girls! You’re TCs! Welcome!”

We shriek, and she laughs again.

“How were those TC bunkhouses last night?”

We cheer.

She’s cracking up. “Sorry you all hated it. Listen! Let’s review the schedule so we can decide just how much fun is necessary to be had, hmm?”

She launches into the daily itinerary plus the trips and color wars and cantata and it sounds so insanely fun, I can’t believe we’re jamming it into three and a half weeks.

“She’s so awesome,” I say out loud.

Shan cocks her head. “I know. I can’t exactly associate the word ‘mother’ when I see her.”

Hmm. This sounds like it might be going somewhere I have no interest in going, but I’ll put out feelers.

“I don’t think anyone’s actual mother is like that. Even Mrs. K. to her own kids.”

Shan shrugs, auburn ponytail bouncing. “You’re probably right. You need to be regular during regular life. But it takes a certain personality to even want to do this once a year.”

I squint, trying to imagine Ma up there in an Ashreinu sweatshirt, megaphone in hand. I actually laugh out loud.

“You are one hundred percent correct. My mom would NEVER!”

Shan looks at me. “Well, I think I would win this contest. My mom is the principal of my school in Detroit.”

Well, then. I guess this is what “speechless” feels like.

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 955)