This morning smelled like summer camp. Maybe it was because I got so badly sunburned yesterday. Maybe it was because I found my old quiz team shirt (amazingly, it still fits). The fresh air on my way to work today reminded me of all those mornings of being herded out of the cabin by a grumpy counselor.
I wish I was an awkward fifteen-year-old again, complete with braces, acne, and glasses. Back then, I at least had a good excuse for being weird—everyone’s weird at that age, even the cool ones. Nevertheless, summer camp was a sacred realm within childhood.
When you were at camp, nothing else mattered. You could forget about the outside world and focus on the important things in life: flip-flops, sunshine, cabin competitions, kamikaze mosquitoes … even fried food night! Whether it was a polar bear swim at dawn or a bonfire in the evening, even when your throat ached from cheering and you hated your best friend because she talked to that cute boy, everything was perfect.
I’m tempted to pull out my sleeping bag and sleep outside tonight. Guess I’ll just have to settle for wearing flip-flops. Unless, of course, somebody walks through the door and says “I’m not the doctor. I’m the plumber!” In that case, I’d have to head off on a trail ride. Although, I would settle for tubing.