Whew. That’s about all I can say at the end of a, quite frankly, singularly amazing summer. It’s a bit odd to transition away from sharing my meals with 320 kids and staff, beginning and ending the day with flag, or spending Friday night’s singing silly songs around a campfire. Sitting in front of a computer writing emails is not nearly as fun.
Camp is SIGNIFICANTLY quieter these days. It’s peaceful and serene, calm and collected, a roaring campfire dwindled low. That quiet glow illuminates the feeling of gratitude I get at the end of the summer. Gratitude for all of the staff, SKs, donors, families and friends of camp that help make it what it is to so many.
Camp is full of the magic of each person who called Kitaki home this summer, and it won’t let it go. It’s impossible for me to walk around camp without experiencing the echoes of summer camp, the small ghosts of the life changing experience of kids, manifested into memories forever held dear. Like the embers of a campfire stirred to life, they sit in some darkened corner of the mind, awaiting the poke of consciousness to leap back to light and clarity.
As I walk around a still camp devoid of the excitement of campers, listening to the whispers of memories, it’s easy to be a little wistful and sad that summer has ended. The “End of Summer Blues” can get us all. There is, however, comfort in knowing that the magic never ends, and with a quick stir, the fire will once more spring to life.
Until we meet again in the land of the high hills,
Jason