The Bottom Shelf Review

Ode to The Last Night of Summer Camp

The fire crackles low
as ribbons of smoke rise above us,
curls into the night like a final breath,
and for the first time all summer,
the air feels still.
I feel the exhale of relief
from the other counselors-
We made it.

Around us, tired voices rise and fall,
soft, but full.
We sing “Moon on the Meadow”,
and join hands for “Linger”
as tiny eyes well with tears
and arms wrap tightly around new friends
as we continue this weekly goodbye ritual
one last time for the summer.

I am called upon to read a poem,
And one line hits me harder today:
“How do I know
who I am seeing
for the last time?”

My ears ring.
My eyes search,
finding my coworkers,
finding my best friends,
finding the faces I know I’ve made a difference to,
staring back
as they face this question too.

My skin is sunburnt,
my legs are constellations of mosquito bites
and my body hums with quiet exhaustion
but still, I am content.

I think of mornings at Laughing Waters,
the sharp chill of the air waking me,
the sound of sneakers
pitter pattering behind me to breakfast
as the first laughs
break through the quiet of dawn.

Every late night returns to me
the quiet knock of a homesick camper
on our cabin door,
the walkie call cutting through my dreams
calling out to me
in the late hours of the night.

I remember how endless some weeks felt,
and how sometimes I counted down
the days to go home.
But sitting here now,
as the sky is heavy with stars,
I remember
this is also home.

As the circle flickers
with the last of the flames,
I catch sight of my camper’s faces once again
bright,
open,
familiar.

In them, I see my own reflection
Wide eyed,
unsure,
but held by this moment.

The Way the Light Faded

Summer used to stretch forever out here.
The grass humming with crickets,
The trees lightly swaying
Like they were alive.

I’d lay in the front yard,
My dog pressed to my side,
Her snores quiet and content,
A kind of rhythm
I thought the world couldn’t touch.

Down the road,
Our neighbors’ garage radio
murmurs the chorus to Country Roads,
And bits of conversation and laughter
Break through.

I watched the sky turn from its usual blue
Into a deep orange, and finally
My siblings arrive home just in time
As the sky settles into violet.

I feel the day slip quietly away,
Knowing that tomorrow would be the same,
And the thought of my life being any different
Never came to mind.
I thought I’d always have tomorrow.

I didn’t know that these small moments
Would be something I missed.
Now when summer finds me again,
The air is heavier,
And the light fades quicker.

I pull into the driveway now,
And swear I can still see us there,
Barefoot in the grass,
The radio humming the same old songs,
The world pausing for a moment.

But the dog is gone,
My siblings far away,
And our house isn’t the same.

I don’t stay long, but
I leave my windows down
And the warm wind flows through my car,
Soft as a memory,
Carrying everything my life used to be.

Moth to a Flame

Every time
It begins like a memory
I thought I’d long forgotten
soft, familiar,
your name slips back into my mouth
like a habit I swore I’d quit.

Something about the way
we fit and fall apart
feels inevitable
Like smoke rising,
We never last long
And I only learn how to disappear.

Each time we return,
it’s never the same way
And we are never the same people
Only
two sparks trying to relight
Something that once burned brighter.

A future lights behind your voice again,
and I almost believe you,
because I want to.
Because I need to.
Because,
even when I say I’m gone for good,
I still find my way back:
only a moth
pretending it’s not drawn
To a flame.

And maybe that’s all we are:
something that burns beautifully
until it doesn’t.
A match strike quick to fade.
Relit,
Again.
And again.

Still, I reach for you.
Knowing the end.
You are the lesson I never finish learning
And the fire that burns me every time.