I’ve been raving about this camp for the last two years I’ve been going. It’s wonderful, juicy and sweet, a time to connect and get nourished in a group of women. The Times-Colonist has done a pretty decent story about it, interviewing various women connected with camp, so I thought I’d post the link here. There will be a writing coach this year, for the first time, Fran Skene, and I’m definitely looking forward to that!

women’s camp story by the Victoria Times-Colonist

Still deep in it, hot water bottle strapped around my middle, I breathe and sway with the red tides inside. Movement is slow, and so are thoughts, while sleep is never far away. Problems weigh heavily on the surface of my mind, but down here the pressure is global, like seabottom, and solutions are dim and distant, difficult to discern.

I wish for the Red Tent, the sister-gathering sacred womb room, earthy floor lined with cedar boughs, hot with fragrant smoke. I would sink into Her darkness until it was time to gather my essence and re-emerge into the world.

It’s time to leave this idyll of leisurely luxy living with dogs and cats. Packing and readying to move is a drag when the rain is unrelenting as now. Return we tomorrow to that place dear to my heart, sweet cottage by the sea with wildlife painted on the exterior walls, whales and dolphins and eagles.

Our days of living in squalor appear to be blessedly past; much as I enjoyed some aspects of what we called ‘indoor camping’, I admit I prefer those civilized luxuries like running water and a refrigerator in the same building in which we live.

Carl stiffened at the mention of the family whatever-it-was. Seeing this, Sylvie bounced out of her funk and onto another track.

“Mom, Carl, what does that mean?” she asked. “I mean, what is Asafel?” Her Snowpepper self had been in the background for most of the meal, but now her intense curiosity swelled to occupy her attention. “Where is Asafel from? Why us? Why our family? And, well, is it even right to use him that way?”

That last question had been Sylvie’s, not Snowpepper’s. It was odd how some of the time her mind swung back and forth between the two selves, but in other moments she felt no difference between them as though she were both simultaneously with no separation.

“Whoa, Syl, one question at a time,” Carl blinked in surprise at the sudden turn in the conversation. "Mom?” he raised his eyebrows at Adele. She nodded, letting him speak to Sylvie’s questions.

“As for what Asafel is, even he doesn’t know,” Carl began. “I’ve asked him, of course, but all he says is he’s always been with our family. He always follows the oldest daughter first, or the oldest son if the oldest daughter doesn’t want him for some reason. So because you weren’t in the picture, he followed me.”

“How come Mom could still call on him, if he was with you?”

“He says, once he bonds with somebody, he’s always sensitive to their call,” Carl explained, “But his primary place is with the person he’s gravitated to. He’s been primarily with me since I came to the city. And now…” he hesitated. “Well, I guess he’s going to be primarily with you, Syllie.” Carl’s face clouded. “I’m going to miss him.”

“Oh, no, Carl, he should stay with you then!” Sylvie was alarmed. “I don’t need him! I don’t even know him! He’s your friend, Carl, you keep him!”

“Sylvie, you do need him if you have any hope of staying in the big bad city, girl,” Carl grinned wryly. “I have depended on him a lot, but really, I don’t need him as much now as I used to. Honey, I really think you need him more than I do now.”

Carl chewed thoughtfully on his last piece of crust. “I can always call on him myself, if I really need him. Besides, you don’t really have a lot of choice, kiddo. Once Mom introduced you, he was on you like wag on a dog. You can’t get rid of him, Syl, and he can’t get rid of you, either. You’d better get used to him, because he’s yours now.”

“What!?” Sylvie barked in alarm, “Some strange genie or demon or whatever is going to follow me around all day? What about in the bath?”

“It doesn’t work that way, dear,” Adele gently corrected her, “Asafel remains dormant until he’s called. I don’t think time passes for him when we’re not talking to him.”

Snowpepper rose to the surface. “Oh yes it does! He knows every second that passes by! He wants to be called! He hates it in that black no-place!”

“Excuse me? Sylvie, do you know something we don’t?” Carl looked at her quizzically.

“I think I do, really,” Snowpepper/Sylvie said earnestly, “I think I met Asafel before, but I didn’t know who he was yet. He was in my head. He said a lot of strange things, but he sure seemed aware of the time passing. He was horribly bored and hateful, too.”

“Are you sure that was Asafel, little sis? That sure doesn’t sound like him!”

“Just a small salad for me,” Sylvie said to the waiter, a skinny boy with liquid black eyes and a friendly grin. “I’m not very hungry.”

“O-kay, that’ll be a small house salad, the soup and sandwich special and a personal size pizza with everything. Coming right up!”

Sipping a glass of water between bites of salad, Sylvie looked at her brother. He had changed so much. Was it just the city? He seemed happier, in his element. What about…?

“Carl,” she blurted, “Mom told me about, you know, Asafel. Do you still talk to him?”

Carl’s head jerked up so fast he nearly choked on his pizza. “What? Mom! You didn’t!”

Sylvie was taken aback by his vehement reaction. “Hey!” she protested indignantly, “What’s the big deal? I should’ve been told about him all along! I have a right, you know! I’m the girl! Asafel said!”

“That’s right, dear,” Adele said, glancing nervously at Sylvie, “We decided, Asafel and I that is, that Sylvie needed to know. It seemed the right thing to do.”

“Oh, it did, did it?” he said angrily. “What about Dad? How she going to handle him? Do you want to put her through what I went through, trying to keep a secret like that from him? Dad’s a paranoid maniac about this kind of stuff! Hell, I had a lifetime of practice hiding from him, and the old bugger caught me anyway! Christ!” He lifted a slice of pizza in a shaking hand and ripped off an angry bite.

Sylvie took a deep breath. She had meant to bring this up to her mother earlier, but somehow the moment had never seemed right. “Well, that’s the thing,” she said. “I’m not going home. I won’t live with Dad anymore.”

“What? Sylvie!” Carl looked stricken. “You can’t stay in the city all alone! You’re way too young! Of course you have to go home!”

“Carl,” Adele said, “I’ve thought about this myself. Since you left, Sylvie hasn’t, well, home hasn’t been good for her. If I could, I might leave myself, to tell the truth, but…” she glanced out the window. “I haven’t been a good mother to her in the last couple of years, either. Your father does take up a lot of space, you know. I think she would be better off away from him. She could hardly do worse here, given the right sort of environment. Perhaps…” she hesitated. “Well, I hoped that maybe she could stay with you?”

Sylvie held her breath. Please say yes, Carl, she thought. But she knew from the look on his face that it wouldn’t be that way.

“Oh, no, Mom, I can’t, it would never work. Sylvie’s only fifteen. I’m a musician, I play in a band, I live in a communal house, it’s kind of a party place, it could never work. I couldn’t keep an eye on her in that kind of environment. And I’m always at work or playing gigs, anyway, Syllie, I’m sorry,” he finished, a little lamely.

Her heart in her mouth, desperate words spilled from Sylvie’s mouth like blood from a mortal wound. “Well, no, hey, how about the Home? I bet Father James would let me stay, and he’s just the sweetest nicest gentlest man I’ve ever known, and the other people there are nice too, and I want to stay here, I love the city, I want to go to art school and learn to dance and see all the things there are to see here and please, please don’t make me go back to Follett Creek, I would die there, I’d kill myself, I’d run away again, I promise, I can’t live with Dad and Scotty and it’s so boring and dead and cold up there, and I don’t fit in, I’d go crazy–”

“Hey, hey, Syllie, chill, it’s all good,” Carl interrupted her flood of words. He looked anxiously at Adele. “We’ll figure it out, right, Mom?”

“Yes,” Adele said firmly. “Don’t worry, darling,” she said to Sylvie, who was on the verge of tears. “Don’t forget, you have Asafel now.”

At first she didn’t recognize her son. “Excuse me, is there a…” Adele asked a young man sitting near the door, then stopped, her mouth open. “Oh my goodness, Carl, you’re so thin!” she gasped. He had been husky back in Follett Creek; not fat, but definitely robust. The young man who smiled at her now was sculpted to chiseled perfection. He was gorgeous, Sylvie thought wretchedly.

“Mom!” Carl said warmly, standing to hug her. “Yeah, I’ve been working out at the gym,” he told his mother, ruffling her hair in a gesture so Carl-like it brought tears to Sylvie’s eyes. Her heart ached. “Gotta keep the old pecs cut. I’m a city boy now.” Sylvie felt both invisible and dreadfully conspicuous, hurt and relieved that Carl didn’t seem to notice her. After a moment of horrible tension, Carl said, “Hey, let’s sit down and get some lunch.”

Only then did he see Sylvie. “No! Syllie, is that you?” He seemed nearly as shocked as Adele had been by his appearance. “You’re… oh my God, you’re a woman! Look at you!” A huge grin split his face and he stood to hug her tightly. Sylvie’s face heated. She hugged him back spasmodically, then ducked her face away as she sat. Carl was grinning happily at her, almost as though he were genuinely pleased by her presence. That couldn’t be true, though. Not after what she had done to him all those years ago.

“Kiddo, listen,” Carl said, “Let me say this right up front. I’m really, really sorry I left without saying goodbye. I meant to, you know, but everything got crazy. I’ve felt bad about that ever since. It must have been a shock to you. And then, well, I would have written, but… stuff happened. I kept getting distracted.” Now he looked ashamed and squirmingly uncomfortable. The slowly building tension had become unbearable.

“Forget it,” Sylvie mumbled, her face burning. She didn’t know what to say or where to look. Why was she here? She should have stayed at the Home and let her mother visit with Carl. She had been so eager to see him; this whole adventure had begun on a wave of need to see her brother, but now, her desire had turned to soggy ash in her stomach. She felt sick. She wished they hadn’t met in such a public place. She wanted to throw herself onto her bed and cry into her pillow. Her face felt as stiff as cardboard.

Adele had been looking hard at each of her children in turn. Finally she spoke. “Well, heavens, you could cut the air in here with a knife. What’s going on?” She tried to speak lightly, but she could feel the tension in her throat.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Sylvie choked, just as Carl said, “It’s all good, Mom.” They looked at each other and laughed despite themselves. To her own horror, Sylvie’s involuntary giggle turned into a sob. She covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook.

Adele put her arm over her daughter’s shoulders and looked helplessly at Carl. Glancing at the waiter who had approached to take their order, he said, “We’ll need a couple more minutes to decide.” Shrugging, the waiter moved on.

Reaching across the table, Carl took Sylvie’s hand in his own. “Hey, Syllie,” he said softly, “It’s okay, it’s only me, your big brother. Remember?” Sylvie’s sobs burst forth and she tried to choke them back by pressing her palm into her mouth. Patiently, Carl and Adele waited, one holding her hand, the other’s arm draped protectively over her shoulder, until her sobs subsided.

“Now,” Carl coaxed, squeezing her hand gently, “Can you tell me what’s wrong? Am I so hideous?” He crossed his eyes as if trying to see his own face. “Is it the fangs? I thought they were a little over the top…”

Despite herself, Sylvie giggled. “I guess it is still you,” she whispered huskily. Her throat hurt. “You haven’t changed at all. Except for the fangs, I mean,” she added with a shaky grin.

“That’s my girl!” her brother laughed, then turned to place their orders.

They were to meet Carl at a coffeeshop in Kitsilano near the all-night bagel shop where he worked. He had only an hour’s break and had to work late into the night, so Sylvie and Adele took the bus out to visit him. Sylvie hadn’t talked to him yet; Adele had called him from a pay phone and made the arrangements. Sylvie was so nervous she couldn’t stop fidgeting on the bus, though in her Snowpepper self she felt thrilled and distracted by the novelty of the bus and the people who rode it. She had never imagined that there could be so many different kinds of people! Many of them reminded her of familiar faces from the other side of things. Once she was certain she glimpsed Mother Maples in a chocolate-brown face, but her excited gasp was stifled on a closer look, when she realized it was only a resemblance.

She saw Barkley’s gnarled face in that of one old man who seemed at least a hundred years old, yet agile as a youth. As she watched him spring to his feet and dash out the bus, she noticed her mother watching him as well. “Some people never grow old,” Adele mused. “Asifel says it’s because they keep the fountain of youth within them.”

“What does that mean?” Sylvieasked. “Asifel, can you talk here?”

I can whisper in your ear, he replied. The fountain of youth is magic in some form. Call it faith but it’s more than that. People need something to believe in beyond the mundane everydayness of their lives that they can be excited about. You won’t have to worry about that. You have me, now.

Asifel’s tone made Sylvie feel warm. She smiled at him, and then changed the subject, addressing her mother.

“Mom, was Carl happy to hear from you? Did he seem glad to find out I was coming?"

She felt anxious about seeing her brother. As hard as she had worked to find him, now she feared that he really didn’t want her. Her memories, retrieved from the world of dreams beyond the other side of things, made her writhe in shame. Of course he must hate her. She should consider herself lucky that he was willing to see her at all. Even as Adele responded with vague uninformative reassurances, she fretted. Within, Snowpepper became impatient. Stop thinking like this! she demanded. It hurts the rest of us! You’re making it feel really bad in here!

Sylvie sighed. Snowpepper was right. Such thoughts made her feel even more anxious, stimulating the release of adrenalin and other stress hormones. That couldn’t be good for her. She decided to let her faerie self enjoy the rest of the ride and tried to keep her thoughts to a minimum. Let the meeting with her brother take care of itself.

“Quickfoot!” Snowpepper shrieked, throwing her arms around the small man with the fluffy white hair. “You look so different! What happened? Where’s your fur?” She plucked at his rusty black suit jacket. “If I didn’t know who you were, I wouldn’t have recognized you!”

“Dear faerie, it’s so lovely to see you,” Father James said happily, patting her hand. “As to what happened to me, this is the way I look on this side of things. Haven’t you noticed that you, too, are different here? Where are your wings, faerie?”

Snowpepper’s eyes widened and she craned her neck, trying to see behind her. “They’re gone! I don’t have wings here! Oh. That’s right.” Her face clouded. “Sylvie told me this would happen. I won’t be able to fly here, will I?”

Before he could answer, she grinned mercurially and hopped up and down, letting her arms flap like wings. “Oh, I don’t mind. Just walking feels like flying, here! Sylvie didn’t tell me it was going to be so much fun!”

Father James turned apologetically toward the quiet woman who had entered the Home with Snowpepper. He smiled. “Dear lady, please, do excuse the young one. She’s excitable. My name is Father James, and you are…?”

Adele had watched this exchange with quiet bemusement. It appeared that her Sylvie had been up to more than she knew.

“Eh?” she said. “Er, yes. My name is Adele, Father. I’m Sylvie’s mother.”

The little man looked startled. “Oh, but that’s wonderful! Isn’t it wonderful, Snow—that is, Sylvie? Your dear mother is here!”

“Yes! My Mommie came to visit me!” Snowpepper plopped herself onto the couch next to Adele and wrapped her arms tightly around her. Adele smiled nervously. Fortunately the little priest, if that’s what he was, seemed eccentric enough himself, with his talk of faeries and wings. She hoped Sylvie’s odd behavior wouldn’t bother him.

“Have you come to take your daughter away from us, dear Mrs….?”

“Please, Father, call me Adele.” Adele glanced at Sylvie. “I don’t know yet what our plans are, to tell you the truth,” she admitted. “Home hasn’t been a good place for my daughter lately. And before I decide anything, I would like to talk to my son. Carl. He’s also here in the city.”

Carl. The name tolled in Sylvie’s deep brain, where she floated in blissful dreams. She rose to consciousness, uplifted by the echo of the sound of her mother’s voice speaking her brother’s name. Bobbing to the surface of her mind, she felt herself merging seamlessly with Snowpepper, who snuggled in to her mother’s side watching Father James with shining eyes.

“Hey…" Sylvie said, hardly able to contain her excitement. “Mom, did you say Carl? Do you know where he is?”

Adele lay her hand on her daughter’s arm. “Sylvie? Sweetheart, are you all right?”

When the girl turned to look at her, she was startled by the brightness of Sylvie’s eyes; normally a clear grey, they sparkled like crystal. Her face was alight and animated; if she hadn’t known who she was, Adele would never have recognized her daughter, who was normally so composed.

“Oh, I’m fine, Mommie, I’m wonderful!” Sylvie said in a breathless rush. “Isn’t everything just so lovely here? Oh, I could just hug the whole world!” The strange young woman who seemed to be her daughter leaped from the park bench to twirl slowly in a wide circle with her arms outstretched. “Hello beautiful world!” she shouted joyfully.

“Sylvie!” Adele cried, plucking at her sleeve, trying to pull her back down to the bench. “What on earth is wrong with you? Asafel! Please help, Sylvie is acting crazy!”

Asafel faded into visibility in the air in front of Adele. “Don’t worry, Adele,” he said, “Let the child go. I know it’s disconcerting,” he explained, “But this is a phase she must go through. She’s going to seem rather childlike for a bit, but when this is over, she will be more fully herself than she has been since the age of three.”

Adele tried to assimilate what Asafel was telling her. “Age three?” she said, “Why, that’s when Sylvie had that terrible head injury! She never was the same after that…she changed, she became so frightened and serious, not the same happy little girl at all. It broke my heart, I remember. Are you saying that whatever happened to her then is somehow now being reversed?”

“Exactly so. She will answer to the name Snowpepper now. I’ve given Sylvie’s dominant personality leave to surrender control for a time; the poor thing has been in rigid charge of herself for far too long. In the meantime, you’ll have your happy little girl back, quite as she was before the accident. Larger, of course.” Asafel’s smile managed to be both gentle and sardonic.

Adele’s eyes widened as she looked at Snowpepper, who danced on the sidewalk, spinning about and hopping with first one foot then the other, with a grin of pure childlike delight on her face.

She paled, her right hand going to her mouth. “Oh, my. Asafel, people will notice, they’ll wonder… what if someone calls the police, what if they want to take her away? She’s behaving so strangely!”

“No, they won’t. In this part of town, people get away with behaving just about any way they want to.” Asafel gestured toward a woman across the street who paced back and forth talking and gesticulating to herself. “Don’t worry, Adele. Sylvie will be fine, I promise. Now, it’s time to return to the house. There’s someone there you ought to meet.”