Summer Camp Magic

I have a confession to make: I cried on the way home from dropping Liam, age 8, at summer camp on Wednesday. I wasn't at all sad, just a bit overwhelmed about how life always seems to come full circle.

I first attended summer camp at age 8. My parents sent me, with a friend, to a Girl Scout camp. I don't remember much; mostly vague images of having fun, canoeing, swimming, and singing. My mother remembers how I smelled when she picked me up. We had to ride home with the windows down.

The next camp I attended was fairly posh. It was on a college campus, abandoned for the summer if not for the campers. We lived in the air-conditioned dorms, and swam in the indoor pool. I smelled much better at the end of the week, but the memories are the same: swimming, singing, fishing, making new friends.

Finally, I ended up at the camp my kids are attending this week: Camp Ondessonk. The first time I went was in the off-season. My school sent all 7th and 8th graders for a weekend trip; I think I learned more in that weekend than I did the whole rest of the year. I remember clearly spending most of a day creek-walking, feeling the slippery rocks under my shoes, the clear, cold water rushing past my ankles and knees. The sun was shining and the air smelled of water and grass, and I wanted to never be anywhere else but right there. We lived in three-walled tree houses with no electricity. I thought it was heaven.

I later attended as a camper, having the same experience, except longer and richer. Later, I was a CIT (counselor-in-training) and then, for one magical summer, staff. Admittedly, I wasn't that great of a camp counselor. I was too immature; it was my first job, and I had a hard time transitioning from camper to staff. I wasn't hired back the next year... my evaluations by my unit and activity leaders had only been fair, and camp was focusing on hiring mostly age 18+ staff in order to earn ACA accreditation. I was crushed.

Although I freely admit that not re-hiring me until I had a chance to mature was the right move, it

changed the course of my life. I regret nothing, since the life I have lived led me to my husband and our four amazing children, and the experiences we have had together. For years, though, I have had the feeling like things were left unfinished; that there was something I was meant to do, a calling I wasn't following.

Last Sunday, we dropped Ava & Genevieve off for their first year at Camp Ondessonk. They were excited, if a little apprehensive. I saw them Wednesday when I dropped Liam off for his 3-day experience as a mini-camper, and it was like looking in a mirror that showed my past self. They were red-faced, hot and sweaty, and absolutely glowing with excitement and happiness. Camp magic had obviously had its way with them, the same as it did with me so many years ago. And that magic never lets go. They will always find a second home at camp.

We pick the three of them up tomorrow. I'm looking forward to going home again.