Ode To A Crazy Creek Chair

We always love seeing pictures of our chairs in action, but we’re kind of in love with the beautiful poem. Put the kettle on, and enjoy πŸ™‚

camphighlander.jpg

Images: Camp Highlander

By Hilit Jacobson, age 13

Camp Barney Medintz

Dancing to the music,

the frayed chair balances on the cabin’s damp, weathered floor.

Bubblegum pink toenails dangle

over the top of my faded, blue Crazy Creek.

I close my eyes and

breathe in the sweet summer heat.

Memories of the past

flash through my mind.

Campouts,

sitting around the smoky, orange bonfire.

Each bubbly, young girl rocking,

and talking,

Back and forth

back and forth

in her faded blue Crazy Creek.

Memories of us,

the cabin that always sticks together.

As we gaze up at the stars,

our seats laid out flat,

I soak in the joy and comfort my Crazy Creek has provided.

The patches of caked-on dirt,

and stains of spilled food

remind me of the magical moments my Crazy Creek holds.

Messages scribbled in black smelly ink

fill the front of my chair.

β€œI love you” they announce.

The weight of my body shapes the chair.

It is almost custom-made

for me

to sit in.

For me to enjoy.

For me to bring along

through camp’s journeys.

As the two pieces of sturdy foam

connect in a line,

The seam holds a story.

A story like the ones little kids listen to before bed

about the fairies and princesses,

and the adventures they discover.

I sit here in my chair,

Year after year,

With my own story,

a new tale eager to be shared.

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2 thoughts on “Ode To A Crazy Creek Chair

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