My 8 Year Journey at Camp

           I just remember sweating. It was a humid June day in 2009. I was in Amherst, New Hampshire, a place I did not know existed until a few months before. I was nine years old and my mind was full with a million different emotions. I was not quite sure what I was getting myself into.

It was “drop-off day” at Camp Young Judaea (CYJ), an overnight camp located in the woods of Amherst, New Hampshire. My parents were dropping me off at camp, and would not be back to pick me up for another three and a half weeks. The longest amount of time I had ever been away from my parents was at most a week, so I was not prepared to be away from them for so long. I hated being away from my parents.

I was waiting in line for my head to be checked for lice. As I patiently waited in this line, I took a few minutes to observe the camp. I quickly realized that I would have to be on my own for the next month. Even though my best friend and numerous family members were going to camp with me, all I wanted to do was run back into my parent’s car.

I did not know how I was going to survive.

I walked into my bunk and immediately began tearing up. My first impression was how filthy my bunk was. I had never seen so much dust, dirt, spiders, or cobwebs before. I looked around and saw about ten other nine year old girls. Just like me, they looked nervous and miserable. One of my counselors greeted me. She seemed nice, but I hated the idea that she would be my “parent/guardian” for the next month.

After I unpacked my two huge duffel bags, it was time for my parents to leave. The moment that I had been dreading for months was finally here. At this point, fighting back my tears was nearly impossible. My heart was beating extremely fast, my face turned bright red, and my stomach was in a million knots. As I gave my parents hug and said my final goodbyes, my dad told me that he would see me in “the blink of an eye”. How was this possible? How was spending three and a half weeks with a bunch of strangers, in the middle of the woods in New Hampshire going to go by fast? My long journey at Camp Young Judaea had just officially began, and I was not a happy camper.

It is now the morning of August 18, 2016. I had just completed my ninth summer at camp. Just like I dreaded leaving my parents side and going to camp in 2009, nine years later in 2016, I dreaded going back home. Nine years ago when my dad told me that he would “see me in the blink of an eye”, I thought he was crazy. However, he was right. On that June afternoon in 2009, I never thought that this old, rundown camp would become one of my favorite places in the world. I certainly did not think that I would form such special friendships and make unforgettable memories. I did not expect to learn how to be an independent individual and take care of myself on my own.

Camp had become my home and my camp friends and counselors had become my family.