Amara stood in the back of the group of newcomers, listening as the older grumpy girl gave a tour of the camp; she didn’t know how she really felt about this place yet. On one hand she got to learn more about herself and feel closer to her mother Demeter here, on the other she was unhappy with the fact that she had to leave her dad, grandma, and horse Periwinkle behind. She had never gone a day without her family, nor a night not sleeping in her own bed. She would miss the old floral wallpapers, creaky wooden floors, peeling yellow siding, mismatched furniture, smell of fresh flowers, and the sound of wind chimes, which made up her home. 

She remembered the long car ride down from Rockland Maine, her home, to get here. Her father had looked older then, as he gripped the steering wheel, and sighed every so often as he seemed to be trying to pluck up the courage to say goodbye once he dropped her off at the Camp. The car ride had been somber and Amara had let her mind wonder as she looked out the window at the zooming by scenery, and passing cars. Her dads old Honda had the familiar smell of potting soil, and pine needles like it always did. Her grandma’s Elvis CD played on repeat for the whole trip, as nether she or her father had the energy to change it to one of the other many CDs that scattered the backseat. 

The goodbye had been harder then she thought, tears had silently fallen, and the last long hug was hard to let go of, she breathed in the scent of her dad; cinnamon, and shaving cream. The last of her tears stained the shoulder of her father’s plaid flannel shirt, and then it was time for her to go. She had brought with her, her schoolbag full of clothes, her favorite books, and unicorn music box, holding her collection of trinkets, and bobbles. 

She was dressed for cooler weather, unnecessary as it seemed with the way the sun was beating down today, but the coming breeze did have a chill to it, so she was glad to be wearing her favorite powder blue sweater with the pretty pearl buttons, and ribbon embroidery around the collar. The knee length skirt she had on, was the one she had gotten for her birthday only a few weeks ago, the canary yellow, and salmon pink pattern of the fabric, reminded her of her bedspread back home. 

Still standing in the back of the group she waited and watched, observing the soon to be argument play out before her. She also kept glancing around the area they were standing, 20 different cabins around them all looking quite different.