The following was
written by Sam Simala, an intern with Rogers Ozone, on her perspective in her
role with CWE365.
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| Sam, wrapped for a Christmas game |
Alright, I am not a
mother, not even to a pet, but on Tuesdays and Thursdays and some Saturdays I
feel like I am. One responsibility of an Ozone intern is transportation. Calls
and texts come trickling in the day before each club, requesting our services.
We (Raul, my partner in crime and fellow intern) respond and make a game plan
of how to go about picking up each kid. As the van becomes more occupied it
fills with laughter, conversation, and often begins to smell a little too.
Since it’s not exactly nice to honk the van horn when we arrive at each house
to signal our presence Raul jumps out, chats with the parents and opens the van
door for the kids. I can’t tell you how many times he has come back with a
plateful of food. So, we eat a little dinner on the way to club most weeks.
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| Sam with her small group at Primetime |
My
relationship with Raul is much like a marriage. While that last sentence may seem
awkward for some to read, we are both very aware of that fact and embrace it
with arms wide open. Our first Lifeline that we were in charge of felt like a
total and complete failure in almost every regard. We didn’t communicate at
all. We were mad at ourselves and each other. We knew we had to get better. So
we changed.
It wasn’t easy. There were many trips to discuss our feelings and
a lot of grace exchanged between the both of us. Our internship is in Rogers,
so we typically have 20-30 minutes alone each day. After we worked our
differences out, those minutes filled with stories of our weekend or what we
were going through.
But back to being a
mom.
We help with homework, rejoice when someone makes the team or the band,
and give advice on friendship. As the kids pile back into the van, I truly feel
like a soccer mom- they’re rowdy and out of control, but it is my absolute
favorite. Sometimes we crank up the music. Sometimes we sing our own songs.
Raul does roll call and I tell them all to make sure they’re buckled up- and
we’re off.
One by one we return them to their parents and we wish them well:
“Good luck on that test tomorrow,” “Have fun at Girl Scouts,” “Tell me how that
competition goes” are all things we shout as they walk up the drive. I put the
van in reverse and wait until the front door opens. Then the laughter dies down
and there’s just Raul and I again. We head home, park the van, and life goes
on. But we still worry about the tests and the band and basketball. Interns.
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