I can't believe this session is coming to a close. With campstock, hobby culmination, village banquet, and now final banquet behind us, it is safe to say that July flew by. Now, as I reflect on the session from my quiet, clean, non-camper-filled home, a few thoughts come to mind about the culminating days of camp. While these thoughts certainly should not be taken as fact, it has occurred to me that nearly every session at CSL has some common themes.
1. It never rains on the first day, but it always does on the last.
When I woke up this morning and felt the sun beating down on me through the screen of my cabin at 7am, I thought maybe, just maybe, this would be the year it didn't rain. I proved myself right until mid-afternoon, when, right on cue, the sky began to cry. It seems that the campers are not the only ones who shed tears when the buses pull away up Camp Road. While as a staff member, it's rather uncomfortable to move the excessive luggage of middle school girls through the poring rain year after year, I always find a little serenity in the situation. It seems that the universe knows camp is ending; the rain symbolizes the tears of the campers leaving, but also serves as a "power wash" of camp, preparing for what's to come.
2. The cabin will not look clean (no matter how hard you try) if everyone is packing.
As a camper, I didn't get why our counselors were always making us turn the job wheel and sweep every inch of the cabin during clean-up each morning. In fact, until a few years ago I was honestly pretty convinced it was a form of torture. It wasn't until I was in the staff position that I realized how crucial this cleaning time is - especially when it comes to packing to go home. We can sweep out the thousands of popped water balloons, pack all of the hanging towels, and shove all our unworn clothing into duffles, but the cabin will never look as good as you want it to during packing periods. This is nothing a good playlist can't help with though -- plus this time serves as a lost and found; spandex lost weeks ago somehow reemerge, and unfinished string bracelets come out of hiding, waiting to be finished. Who can be mad at that?
3. The days feel like weeks while the weeks feel like days.
Sometimes I lay in my bed at night and legitimately just stare at the ceiling trying to recap my day. It sounds silly, I know, but I often find that this is no easy task. It's almost hard to know where to begin - what did I eat for breakfast? Who did I sit with at lunch? What did we do at athletics second period? Was tonight an ACP? The days drag on, and by the end it feels like you can't possibly wake up and do it again tomorrow - but somehow you always do. At the same time, though, I often find myself sitting in the fire circle wondering how it could be Friday again. Each Shabbat is a reminder of how fast the time really does go by, and also a good wake up call - time at camp is limited. No matter how long the days may feel, the fact of the matter is that the weeks will fly. Whether you're there for 7 weeks or 3.5 weeks, it's still such a small fraction of the 52 weeks we have each year - yet arguably the most significant.
So, as the first session comes to a close, I reflect on these three things and keep them in my pocket as a reminder of the magic that lies within the borders of Camp Seneca Lake. July, it's been real. August, we're coming for you. See you soon.
-Jilli Underberg, S2 Counselor/Media Representative
