Posted by: tlnemethy | August 21, 2013

Make like Chiquita and Split

The end of camp’s no end at all, just the end of a beginning.

We sang that phrase over and over the entire summer we were at camp and it started out just sounding like a clichéd phrase that had an extreme amount of sentimental value attached to it. Sure, we can sing it all we like, but what are the chances that it can actually hold true? Camp’s over. The summer’s ended. Another year of responsibility and seeking and overall disjointed life plans results. Where am I going, what am I doing, do I even have a job? No. The questions all pile up after camp; the big ones not just what Salmon’s real name is.

I’m not overly emotional. Not in front of people anyways. But after a week of family camp and getting just that much closer with kids I claimed to possess, “my kids” I am upset that some of them disappeared on my final day off. They’ll be back, but there’s no guarantee I will be. Do I want to? Without a doubt. But situation’s arise and you never really know for sure if your plans will hold. On the final day of work, taking down camp, after everyone had packed up their crazy amounts of belongings and dragged their wheelie cases across the gravel road to the shuttle we all kind of huddled together before they drove away. Because I drove, I was damn near the only non-returner who had to say goodbyes. Everyone else got to spend another night together in Minneapolis before they parted ways, most of them traveling about in small posses anyways.

As I was shuffling my group forward with my best non-quacking duck walk I realized exactly how most of my kids felt when they left. Sure, there’s an absolute attachment that I developed with my kids, but I knew them for so much shorter a time frame than my co counselors and the other camp workers. We’d spent, on average, 10 weeks together throughout the summer. Ten weeks to develop profound bonds and create ridiculous memories (or in some cases non-memories). It was horribly depressing to see all the crying as they filed onto the vans and we had no guarantees to see each other again.

Promises, promises. But just remember, the end of camp’s no end at all, just the end of a beginning.


Responses

  1. You do have a way with words.


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