
I never admitted my small teen crush to Donnie, although I often joked with him that I fell for him. Indeed I did. The camp tabernacle had a cement floor painted gray. I remember the ash color vividly. It was Thursday night of camp, my last camp before heading to college, and I was trying to make sure I said goodbye to everyone before service that evening because I knew Friday mornings were hectic and not conducive to departing sentiments. There had been a thunderstorm and rain had blown into the area in front of the pews. We were required to dress up for evening church at that time, and my dress shoes were not a good combo. As Donnie and I separated from a hug, I took a step back and forgot momentarily about the slick floor. . . until I landed at his feet. Evidently he had girls falling for him all the time, because by the time social media was invented and we reconnected, he had completely forgotten (or blocked) the incident from him memory.