So, I took some vacation days to chaperone this trip some of my church girls were taking. We are at the same camp I went to *when I was their age* because apparently I've reached the age where I can say that... And these girls were not even BORN then. Yeah, let that one sink in.
So tonight was campfire night, held at a chapel named after 4 counselors who were killed in a car/train wreck. One of them had been my cabin counselor the summer before, and another one had been at the camp all 3 times I attended. It's great that their memory lives on, after such a horrific accident that cut their lives so so short. I've been a little busy to stop and think and remember that day, but I remember the couch I was sitting on when it came on the news. I knew it would be someone I knew, but I had a peace that it was not my *favorite* counselor. The first name they called was the girl who was driving. She was my cabin counselor almost exactly a year before. As only a 12-year-old-girl can, I immediately lost it, and didn't even hear the middle 2 names, but then that fourth one - there were 2 guys with the same first name, one was my favorite, and I never thought it could take so long to say a first, middle, and last name. I was glad it wasn't my favorite guy, but felt bad for being glad. Oh, and the anticipation during the commercial break when they were about to tell who was involved, I hope I never experience that nervous wait again.
It obviously was just not a good day, and while I still think of those counselors when I think of this camp, I haven't relived the memory of that horrible day in quite a while.
It just blows my mind that when all of the above happened, these girls in my cabin weren't alive yet. There are a lot of things about camp that are the same - there is the same structure, the same "big" activities, the same rules and cabins and trails and signs in the dining hall even... And yet it's totally different. There was less singing and skits, no sign of a guitar anywhere, and didn't the naturalists seem so much older when I was 12? Well, that part is probably not so much a change for camp as a change in my life.
I said I would work here one day. My parents made me work at another camp for one summer, before they would discuss "here," and well - I just never left that camp to come back here. And now, as a married, hoping-to-adopt-soon grown-up --- I regret that I didn't come back. Sure, I certainly enjoyed the other place, but this was where it started. This was a totally different atmosphere, and I let familiarity and a better paycheck keep me from here. I'm sure life would be a lot different if I had taken that path.
******* I hate that I've been MIA during NIAW, but it's kind of hard to read, comment, and blog about infertility with a 10-12-year-old looking over your shoulder!!! We go home tomorrow, but there will be catching up to do, and some ball games and stuff, so I'm not so sure I'll be around. Perhaps I'll jump back on board the IF blogging train soon?