Two enormous pine trees formed the entry to my new summer home. Between the trees, high overhead, hung a birch bark plank. It was like driving your car through a huge doorway. On the plank, Welcome to Paradise was spelled out with twigs. Beneath that, even smaller twigs spelled: Paradise Fine Arts Camp, estb 1903.
So my loved ones have abandoned me for the summer at a Fine Arts Camp? Does that mean we can make those beaded Indian Belts? Finger painting? Clay pots? I like art in school, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am stuck in this place. Mom doesn’t even know where I am. I don’t know exactly where I am.
Did I say loved ones? Yes, I love my mother, but she abandoned me to my aunt, which is like giving me to a stranger. And they don’t come much stranger than my aunt.