This is a semi-fictional piece that I wrote during the summer of 2017 about what I thought it would be like to go back to camp to visit.
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I drove down those familiar roads but there was a different feeling this time. It had been a year since I drove there and I knew I wasn’t staying for a long time. Every summer since I was 13 years old I spent at a teen camp, but this is the first year that I could not attend. My body knew what turns to take and where to stop and get a bottle of water before continuing. I came upon a construction site and I drove down the detour and it felt wrong, but that was just the first of many changes.
I spent over a month at camp last summer even though I promised myself I would not go back. But then I thought why wouldn’t I go home after a long time being away, home is where happiness is. Camp never fails to bring out the best in me and I am the happiest when I am there. As I sat in my car waiting for the flagger to wave me through, I didn’t feel that raw excitement that I felt in the past years. My stomach churned and my hands were sweaty, I didn’t know what to expect when I got there.
The sun was shining and my music was blasting. I saw the same people working at the ice cream shop and the timing of the traffic lights was the same. The smell of freshly cut grass filled my car as I drove past the field that was mowed in a perfect pattern. I was ready to be home, but I sat there trying not to get my hopes up. Things would not be the same as they were the last time I turned the corner at the corner store and headed down the road. I may not get the welcome home that I wanted and new campers would not know me. The people would not be the same and the gross furniture would be replaced with new gross couches.
I pulled into the gas station and bought a bottle of water and a bag of candy. The same girl stood behind the cash register and I smiled at the familiarity. I pulled out and knew I was only 10 minutes away from home. Naturally, I reached into my purse and searched for the check that I needed to pay for a week of camp. After a second I realized I didn’t have one because I would not be staying at camp. I did the same thing every Sunday of every July and August for the past seven years.
My car glided up the hill and the corner store was in sight. I drove past the sign that read, “½ mile: Camp Berea.” I couldn’t help but smile because I was going to be home in a few seconds. I put my blinker on and turned but oddly enough I pulled into the store parking lot instead of cruising down the road. I felt my heart in my throat as I realized what a stupid decision I was making. Thoughts flooded my head saying: no one wants you there. People only talked to you because you were always there. Nobody will be happy to see you. I threw my car in drive and took off down the road, but not heading towards camp.
I let the thoughts get the best of me, even though I drove two hours to get there I was going to waste an opportunity to go home and see who was left from my family. I felt my phone buzz and I pulled over to check it. It was a text message from one of my former camp counselors. “Hey, hope you are close. We all can’t wait to see you!” I sighed and turned my car around once more. It eased my mind knowing that one person would be excited to see me.
I drove past the corner store and I saw the fence around the softball field. I was home. Instantly I felt a tear run down my cheek because I was happy. The daily softball game had just ended and everyone was heading back to the building. I honked and head turned and they all waved as they recognized my car.
The dirt cloud surrounded my car as I parked and I looked in my rearview mirror and saw my family running towards me. I jumped out of my car and met them in the middle of the driveway. There were arms everywhere and kids yelling my name. I couldn’t suppress the smile on my face as I embraced the people I was closest to. Even though I only saw them in the summer, they are what a true camp family should feel like. The love they showed, amazed me.
I walked up to the house and stepped on the kitchen steps. I turned around and felt the joy coming from the air. A group was silently playing mow on the picnic tables and I could hear more jumping into the cold lake water. I walked into the house and was greeted by the smell of grilled cheese and tomato soup. My best friends were washing dishes and singing along to Disney music. I quietly closed the door snuck up behind them. When I belted out a line from Hakuna Matata they both shrieked and dropped their plates. They rushed up to me and we laughed hysterically as we fell onto the floor of the kitchen. “We didn’t think you were coming until later in the week,” Shelby yelled. I just shrugged my shoulders. “Well, we knew you couldn’t stay away from here for very long. Everyone gets homesick at some point.” I smiled and hugged them again and another tear ran down my cheek.
“I am home now,” I whispered. Then I let them get back to washing the dishes. I walked into the lounge and an intense game of spoons was happening on the floor. Spoons were flying, some laughed and others were yelling. A typical game of spoons at camp. My phone rang in my pocket and my stomach jumped because this was the first time I could have my phone with me while at camp. I saw it was an email from school and I turned it off. No one else needed their phones, why should I? I survived 5 weeks of camp without it and it was the most liberating feeling.
I turned and saw the office door open and excitement filled my body. I knew exactly who was going to come out of that door. David was the closest thing I ever had to a brother. We grew up together and everywhere he went, I followed closely behind. I jumped over a kid’s legs and wrapped my arms around his waist. It was a sense of familiarity that brought me back to my childhood. He hugged me tightly and we talked about how long it had been since we saw each other.
Then out came Ira. He gave me a joking glare and I rushed up to hug him. “Hey there,” he whispered in my ear. I had known Ira for seven years, and in that time, he became a second father to me. I would see him multiple times during the school year when he would speak at my high school and then would spend all summer at camp where he is the director. This past year was the first time I had not seen him in more than a couple of months. I was happy.
He pulled away from my hug and just smiled at me. “So I was informed that you would like to volunteer for a couple days next week, is that right?” My cheeks felt warm because I knew what he was going to say. I had promised him that I would never work at camp, but he assured me that somehow I would. I nodded in response and a smile came across his bearded face. “How about you helping in the kitchen for the next three weeks? The other kitchen girl does not want to be here and I can’t imagine anyone else taking her spot.” Without hesitation, I answered yes. I knew that being at camp is what I needed, and deep down I wanted to be there. Ira hugged me again and then whispered, “I told you that you would be here.” We laughed and my heart soared.
It was stupid of me to think that they would not want to see me. That is what family is for, they are always there and excited to see you no matter what, whether you saw them last week or a year ago. That is how I feel when I go home to camp, it is the place where I can kick off my shoes and be myself anytime I am there. I had my camp parents and brothers and sisters who never fail to make me smile no matter what is going on. People say that home is where you hang your hat which insinuates that it a place, others say that home can be two eyes and a heartbeat which means a person. Both of those statements are true, but I’ll tell you a secret. When home is a place to hang your hat and has people to go along with it, that is how you know that that is where you belong and no matter how long you have been away, it is always good to visit home every once in a while.
Quote of the day: “Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.” ― Robert Frost