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Summers at Eagle Pond

4 mins read
Source: Rebecca Flisser

I have always struggled with emotional attachment to physical places, and this was my final summer at Camp Evergreen, the overnight camp I attended since I was nine-years old. 

Six summers ago, I stepped off a yellow Coach bus and onto the Evergreen dirt path, lined with lush, green pines and their dropped needles. As I walked, I could hear pinecones crunch underfoot and the wind whistling through the trees’ sturdy boughs. I apprehensively looked at unfamiliar faces, wondering if I would make any friends. I watched the older girls run to each other, squealing that they were finally home. Soon, the spirit of camp filled the air as we sang of sisterhood around the campfire, and I knew I belonged. 

This year, I stepped off the same bus and onto the same path, however, I have now traced each step of the way countless times. I am now one of the older girls who sprinted to her friends after a long, cold winter without them. Every song we sang, every night we shared and every familiar tradition we led inched us closer to the end. We spent the summer dragging our feet to try and slow time down, but it ticked at the same pace. The sun rose over our whispering pines for the last time, and we knew it was time to say goodbye. 

As the bus pulled away, I stared out the window, my eyes blurry with tears as the path disappeared from view behind the trees. I watched the place where I grew up alongside girls who became my sisters slip into my memories. It faded away as if it were nothing but a dream. Soon, I would have to wake up and return to the real world where buildings replace trees and life becomes a monotonous string of gray days with the glimmering hope of returning to camp. However, now there is no hope of returning to Eagle Pond because my time there is spent. 

Shortly after I left my oasis, I had an epiphany. The spirit of camp is never gone, it just moves wherever you take it. The traditions I love at camp stretch back to the 1950s, connecting us to the girls who came before. Through these traditions, we are forever bonded to those we will never meet and those who are our closest friends. At camp, I often looked at the plaques on the walls of our bunks to see generations of people, girls whose mothers attended camp before us. 

Through shared experiences, we are changed from young girls into strong women. Camp has infused itself into every aspect of my being, and I would not be the person I am today without my experiences there. Wherever I go, and wherever my sisters go, we bring camp with us because of the fundamental lessons we have learned. We learned how to work as a team, and I learned how to lead a team. I learned that the result of anything I do is better if I give 110% effort. I learned to be a good friend and to feel comfortable with who I am. I found that I am never alone because I turned strangers into sisters six years ago.  

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