Paper Lanterns

Last night, we watched the sweetest movie called The Ballad of Wallis Island. The movie is super slow (which I love), and the movie takes place by the ocean - so all the scenes are breathtaking. I won’t give away the plot, but I do have one favourite scene. New friends were sitting on the beach, and one of them brought paper lanterns. Each of them wrote their hopes and dreams on the paper lanterns, and then sent them off into the night sky. The lanterns slowly floated up, with the twinkly stars behind them, the sound of a crackling fire in the background.

The scene brought me back 32 years to a place that I rarely think about. When I was around 19 and lifeguarding at a local pool, someone came by asking if any lifeguards wanted to make a little extra money at a weekend camp for kids who had lost their parents. I don’t even think I heard what the camp was about when I shouted “I’ll do it!” All I had heard was “extra money”.

The camp was located on 20 acres with a lake where the kids could swim. There would be about 30 kids at this session, ranging from 4 to 10 years old. I knew that I would be a camp counsellor, staying in a cabin with some kids, but I assumed when it wasn’t swim time, I’d just be hanging out, working on my perpetual tan, eating candy. I was wrong.

At the welcome dinner, over ice cream, I was informed that I would be staying with the 4 and 5 year olds with another counselor named Belinda. Belinda was in her late 50’s; she had short grey hair and a wide smile. She asked me what brought me to the camp. I sheepishly said “money.” She smiled knowingly, “That will change by the end of the weekend.”

That night, after we got the kids settled and tucked in, Belinda and I went and sat on the front porch. She told me about losing her husband, Frank, to cancer 10 years ago. That is why she volunteered at the camp. “You don’t know heart pain until you have lost someone you love with all your being.” she said. And she was right, I wouldn’t know that for another 6 years.

Belinda and I had been outside for about 10 minutes when a little girl came out. “I can’t sleep, “ she said. Belinda smiled “I know what will help you sleep, what if Ms. Sara and I came in and sang to you?” The girl agreed and we went back in. Turns out, none of the girls were asleep and they were all in agreement to a concert. Belinda looked at me “What do you know?” I was about to answer when another girl said “Do you know ‘Part of your world’ from the Little Mermaid?” They had obviously picked the right gal because I happen to know ALL the Disney Princess songs. I began to sing softly, waiting for Belinda to join in. She did not. After the Little Mermaid and Sleeping Beauty, Belinda was snoring softly alongside me. That night, I sang for over an hour. Every time I tried to stop, someone would sit up and say “Do you know….” and another song would start. Finally all the girls, and Belinda, were asleep. I laid down on my bunk, wondering what the next 2 days would look like.

The remainder of the weekend was full of swimming, crafts, good food, and circle time. At circle time, the kids broke out in groups and were able to talk about the loved one they missed and what they missed most. Belinda and I sat in the back, cutting up construction paper for the next craft. “See that little boy over there?” she said as she pointed with her kids scissors. “ His name is Mark. He found his dad in the bathroom. He had shot himself. Mark was 6 when that happened. And you see that little girl, Maisy? She was in a car accident last year. Lost both her parents. Her aunt takes care of her now.” Story after story, Belinda filled me in with what these kids had been through. I was feeling so heavy and sad when, suddenly, the circle broke out in laughter. I looked up to see them all looking at a kid named Chris, who had brought a whoopie cushion and was showing them all how to make fart noises.

Right before the kids went home on Sunday, everyone gathered on the shore. There were several little sail boats sitting by the lake that the kids had made the day before. On each little boat, there was a note that they had written to their loved ones.

A poem was read, a song was sung, and then the kids went and found their boats and went down to the water’s edge and sent them off. No one said a word. I for one, couldn’t breathe. I was 19, life hadn’t hit me yet. I didn’t know how these kids were even standing, much less making crafts and fart noises.

I worked at the camp another 3 years after that, until my own mom got sick with cancer. Sometimes we had returning kids, sometimes it was the same ones. Every year, Belinda said we would sing together and every year, she would drift off to sleep. And every year, I would silently watch as the boats would float away, with goodbyes and dreams and love.